A Semblance of Feeling
by pink-levicorpus
Summary: In their 7th year Ron, Hermione and Harry face another challenge as Voldemort attempts to crush the strength of their friendship by slipping Ron a love potion.
1. Evil Ways

Disclaimer: I don't own anything!

Chapter One:

A small pop sounded starkly through the quiet town of Pen-y-Ghent as Wormtail appeared weakly at the foot of his lord. He stuttered through his appropriate greetings before pressing himself to the floor in an act of submission. Voldemort however seemed not to notice any of Wormtail's frippery. Either that or he simply chose to ignore it which, knowing the mannerisms of the dark figure, seemed the more plausible choice. Rather Voldemort glanced around the room, casually assessing the occupants. They were few but select. Well, save for Wormtail.

"I want to destroy the Weasley boy." Voldemort's voice rang out suddenly from the silence. The declaration was firm and obviously premeditated. It wasn't a vague assertion, it was almost a promise. Voldemort may as well have said, _I _will_ destroy the Weasley boy_, the meaning was the same. The intonation of his statement wasn't the focus of the group's response though, but rather the declaration itself.

"W-Weasley? W-what does he have to do with anything?" Wormtail managed to sputter before Voldemort shot him a silencing glare. The others in the room glanced at eachother self-consciously, hoping that Voldemort would see fit to answer Wormtail's query, as it was the same question at the top of their psyches. Voldemort paused for a moment, formulating his speech inwardly. He was by choice a man of very few words and those he did speak were carefully thought out. This was no exception.

"Besides his close affiliation with Harry Potter?" Voldemort began slowly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Wormtail noted the tone and flinched appropriately under Voldemort's heavy gaze. It was a wonder he wasn't dead already, a fact that he was fully aware—and grateful—for.

"W-what I mean, my lord, is that w-what does this Weasley character do for P-potter anyway?" Wormtail pressed, stumbling noticeably over his words. "That Granger girl is w-way more of a threat, your g-greatness," Wormtail quivered, hoping that by sprinkling various endearments throughout his theories Voldemort would be more forgiving.

"Silence you spineless, sniveling Git!" Voldemort responded forcefully, tossing out a few choice endearments of his own. "Do not assume that I have not assessed the situation. I believe that the young Weasley will be conducive to our endeavors." A discomforting silence fell over the group as Voldemort patiently waited to be goaded on. There was no doubt that he was going to reveal his plan—eventually. It was all a matter of who had the guts to press the situation. Wormtail, having already imposed his presence enough, scurried towards a corner and sat back inconspicuously. The others around him stirred uncomfortably, silently daring eachother to speak first. When a voice did break the canvassing silence it was that of Lucius Malfoy, fresh from Azkaban. He spoke smoothly but consistently, giving the impression of running through syrup.

"How will Weasley benefit your plan Lord Voldemort?" Lucius asked calmly, his eyes evenly trained on the dark lord before him. Voldemort paused dramatically, his chilling gaze sweeping over the deatheaters in front of him.

"Weasley is one of Potter's closest friends—is he not?" Voldemort asked pointedly. The group reached a silent agreement. "Weasley also has feelings for the Granger girl—does he not?" Again, the group mutually agreed. Crabbe and Goyle, who had slunk in a few minutes earlier, their bulking frames awkward against the delicately upholstered furniture, let out little knowing smirks at the statement. Even their flea-sized brains had figured out Ron's feelings towards Hermione. He practically fell over himself every time she was in sight and, as they had been led to believe, normal people just didn't do that. Several of the others shot the two brutes menacing glares, immediately silencing the duo. Voldemort didn't seem halted by the disturbance, merely glaring at the two before continuing.

"We are going to make Weasley fall in love with the Granger girl." Silence fell over the group like a heavy blanket. Voldemort, who seemed to thrive on the ignorant confusion cropping up around him, sat back, turning to face the flames reaching out from the fireplace. The fiery fingers reached out, licking softly at Voldemort's robes. The heat seemed to make him glow with a sickening chartreuse aura that seemed to accent his malevolence.

"With all due respect Lord Voldemort, why do you see fit to—help Weasley?" Wormtail squeaked curiously, rising from his corner to face the crowd. Voldemort whipped around in his chair, narrowing his eyes menacingly.

"What do you take me for?" Voldemort bellowed, rising from his chair to tower over the shivering little man. Before Wormtail could stammer out a reply Voldemort advanced on him, sizing up the being before him. "If we force Weasley to lust after Granger what do you think will happen? Do you think our merry little trio will continue on, undisturbed, when the filthy little Weasley can barely keep his grimy paws off of the brains of the entire operation? Do you think that maybe they will be too preoccupied to pay attention to every little thing that Potter happens to get himself into?" Voldemort finished, his voice having returned to its normal hiss. The others nodded knowingly, having finally understood the depth of the whole operation. The logistics were still hazy—how Weasley would fall in love with Granger, how the dilemma would affect the group dynamic and how the situation would play out in the deatheater's favor, but those details didn't matter at the moment. They knew it would be done. They knew they would win. And they knew that Potter would finally be killed.


	2. The Daily Prophet

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Chapter 2

"_Unbelievable_!"

Harry and Ron exchanged wry glances as Hermione's voice broke through the silence that had fallen over the Gryffindor common room. Ron glanced at the clock hanging over the fireplace; it was barely seven in the morning and she had already started on a rant. Not that Ron particularly minded, he actually found pleasure in Hermione's many—and there were many—tirades over every little thing. From the food in the great hall to the treatment of house elves (which was _not_ improving as she had been quick to inform them), no subject was safe from Hermione's scrutiny.

"Unbelievable!" Hermione echoed, making a beeline towards Harry and Ron. Her hair which was large by nature had grown seemingly overnight due to the thick humidity that hung heavily in the hair. Mixed with her eyes—dark from a sleepless night of studying—and her wrinkled robes she looked like she had spent a bit too much time at St. Mungo's. Not giving a second thought to her unruly appearance she walked between Harry and Ron, dramatically slapping the Daily Prophet between the two of them.

"What is it now Hermione?" Harry teased playfully, pretending to be deeply annoyed by her theatrics. He paused mid-sentence however when he saw the bold headline splashed across the top; LUCIUS MALFOY RELEASED FROM AZKABAN! The heading cried. Harry and Ron crowded around as Hermione read aloud.

"'Lucius Malfoy, an alleged death eater, was released from Azkaban last Friday after being cleared of all charges by an anonymous patron….,'" Hermione continued reading until she reached the end of the article, finally throwing it down by her feet. "Can you believe this? How could he have been cleared of all charges? And who do you think the 'anonymous patron' is? This is absolutely ridiculous!" Hermione yelled, much louder than she had intended. Ron and Harry, exchanging hasty glances, carefully guided her to a chair in front of the fireplace. She sat down heavily, rubbing tiredly at her eyes.

"Hermione, did you sleep at all?" Ron asked slowly, not wanting to unintentionally insult her. Still, it was kind of obvious judging by her unruly appearance and her unusually loud outbursts. Hermione paused, trying to recollect her strength.

"I was studying for the Potion's test. Snape stressed how important this one was and I didn't want to fall behind—," Hermione began but was quickly cut off by Ron.

"Fall behind?" Ron asked incredulously, a disbelieving laugh escaping his lips. "Hermione, you set the bar for everyone. If you fall behind, you're still number one!" Ron assured her, inwardly wondering if this was true. He didn't think so; Snape didn't seem to be the kind of professor who would curve any test—unless it benefited him or the Slytherins in any way. Still, his words seemed to calm Hermione a little.

"I think we should go down to get some breakfast if we're going to do anything productive!" Harry said brightly, pushing his unruly bangs from his face. Ron and Hermione looked up, beginning to realize the hunger pains that were rumbling ominously from their stomachs.

"That sounds good," Ron agreed, taking Hermione's elbow to help her up. She smiled at the gesture and stood, her previous fears having evaporated as quickly as they had come. Ron watched her stand and the trio, led by Harry, made their way to breakfast. _She's so pretty_, Ron thought to himself, watching her unruly mass of curls bob up and down as she walked in front of him. His hand was tingling where he had touched her elbow. Her skin had felt so warm and soft. She smelled so good, and that smile. Ron felt himself warming at the thought of her smile. So bright and cheery it was like a ray of sunshine—

"Ron, what do you think?" Hermione asked, her tone making it clear that this was not the first time she had asked the question. Ron snapped back from his reveries, a little disappointed that they had been interrupted, but ecstatic that she was talking to him. She had paused, waiting for him to catch up to her. Despite the fact that he towered over her he often found himself lagging behind, watching her hair, her legs, her—

"Ron!" Hermione said again, nudging him as he approached. He looked up at her, his eyes questioning.

"W-what?" He asked, his tone shaky and off balance. She laughed easily.

"Honestly, if your head wasn't attached…" She said shaking her head at him. She was smiling though and that made Ron happy. _She's smiling—at me_ Ron told himself. _She's laughing with me. Maybe she likes me. I wish I could tell her. Maybe we could be together. We could be—Get a grip on yourself!_ Ron scolded himself silently. He had been doing it a lot lately, fantasizing. It wasn't anything new—ever since he had realized his feelings for Hermione years ago he had had his fantasies—what boy didn't? It was natural. Lately though the fantasies had seemed to consume him more and more. He had trouble focusing in class, his mind mulling over what Hermione was doing. If they actually had a class together—which was the majority of his classes—it was even worse. It was one thing to fantasize about being with Hermione but when she was right there—in the flesh—his mind had a tendency to take off with him.

When the trio entered the great hall it was obvious that they were not the only ones who had heard about Lucius Malfoy's release from Azkaban. It was the hot topic and every table, Slytherin included, was buzzing about the discharge. Unlike the other houses however, the Slytherins were all crowing appreciatively as Draco soaked in the praise like a sponge. Harry, Ron and Hermione glanced at him with disgust, revolted by his obvious pride.

"I'll tell you something to be proud about, never having a family member _in_ Azkaban, that's what," Ron was saying. Hermione and Harry chirped their agreements, turning their gazes away from the Slytherin table and to their own house.

"It's just wrong, absolutely despicable," Lavender was whispering non-to-softly to Parvati who wholeheartedly agreed. "Flaunting their power and influence like that to get him out of _Azkaban_." Lavender's voice dropped even lower when she said 'Azkaban' but surprisingly she made it no less audible.

"I honestly don't know how he could have managed it," Hermione said in between bites of oatmeal. She had picked up another copy of The Daily Prophet and was attempting to analyze the entire article. She was determined to figure out who the 'anonymous patron' was and exactly how he or she had managed to have Lucius released. "I bet it was Voldemort!" Hermione said in a loud whisper, loud enough for Harry and Ron to jump, startled by her sudden exclamation, but not loud enough to alert anyone else at the table. Hermione seemed sure but Harry and Ron looked dubious at her presumption. After a silent exchange between the two it was decided that Harry would field this one.

"Uh, Hermione? Do you honestly think that Voldemort strolled up to Azkaban, slapped down a wad of money and they just kicked open the gates and let Lucius out? Even if it was Voldemort how would he have convinced them to let him go? I mean, he wouldn't exactly have sauntered on up and just threatened them to let him out." Hermione's mouth opened and closed a few times before any sound actually came out, as if she were trying to collect her thoughts.

"Well, I know _that_. I didn't say he just strolled on up and asked them to let Lucius out! He may have had several _intermediaries._ When has Voldemort ever done the dirty work himself? What I was suggesting was that maybe he was _affiliated_ with the whole release," Hermione said in an exasperated tone. Harry and Ron looked at eachother warily but let it pass. After all, as Ron and Harry had learned time and time again, it was far easier to let some things slide than incur the wrath of a sleep-depraved woman.


	3. The Damage is Done

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Chapter 3

The potion was ready, Lucius noted with a glimmer of pride. It wasn't just ready and it wasn't just any potion. It was perfect, and it was the Amortentia potion, the potion that Voldemort had explicitly asked for in his quest to destroy Weasley. It hadn't been easy to make, that was for damn sure. It had taken days—weeks actually—to gather all the necessary ingredients, ranging from the common to the incredibly rare. Even the ingredients that should have been easy to acquire had been difficult, like the blood. More specifically, Hermione Granger's blood. The potion called for hair actually, which would have been much easier to come by, but Voldemort had been adamant about getting blood instead. Blood, he said, made the potion so much more intense, and intense was exactly what Voldemort wanted. Intensity was going to be Weasley's undoing, he was sure of it.

Coming across the blood however had been a whole other adventure. Lucius had been forced to employ the use of his son Draco which had bothered him the most about the whole endeavor; asking Draco for help. The mere act of asking his son to help _him _was so detestable that he had ended up having Narcissa write to Draco asking for a vial of Granger's blood. Whether he had taken Lucius' suggestion about setting one of Hagrid's beasts loose on her or if he had come up with his own plan of action, Lucius would never know. All he cared about was that three weeks after he asked for it, a tiny vial of deep crimson liquid had arrived along with a letter from Draco. Lucius hadn't bothered to read his son's messy scrawl and had immediately sent the letter into the fireplace, taking the vial with him to the dungeons where he had been preparing the potion for weeks.

Lucius stirred the thick tonic with a sort of manic gleam in his eyes. All of his hard work had finally paid off and he felt positive that Voldemort would repay him kindly for his efforts. Looking down at the mixture, Lucius was vaguely surprised at the how thin the substance seemed. He had seen all of the ingredients that went into the potion and there had been some pretty rough stuff. They couldn't have just—disappeared. Lucius rubbed his eyes and chided himself for being so surprised. It was no doubt something to do with the heat or the perpetual stirring; there was absolutely no reason to get so confused about it. Still, the idea puzzled him as he ladled the silvery broth into the heavy brown canister. The potion fizzled slightly as it swished around, coating the sides of the canteen with its silver pallor. The coloring of the mix was by far its best quality, Lucius thought to himself, momentarily transfixed by the soft shimmer. It was a sharp silver color that held the vague qualities of fresh snow, powdered across the landscape. Light reflected off from the mixture giving it an almost dreamlike quality and for some reason it reminded Lucius of Narcissa with its subdued beauty. Despite the gentle fantasies it seemed to provoke however the smell alone was enough to send Lucius running for a gas mask of some sort to shield his senses. It was worse than anything he had ever encountered, summoning visions of rotting flesh, gored bodies and insect-infested wounds left festering in the sun for extended periods. Lucius coughed back the bile that was threatening to rise from his throat. _How am I supposed to get Weasley to drink this? _Lucius asked himself wondering how the smell alone wouldn't kill Weasley before the elixir touched his lips. Bracing himself for another bout of nausea, Lucius carefully placed the potion into his robes and set off to initiate the second part of the plan.

Just as Lucius suspected, as the day drew to a close, several bands of Hogwarts students flocked into the cheery tavern, seeking solace from the cool winds that had picked up as the day wore on. The groups were peppered throughout the tavern, clutching warm drinks among the clusters of friends and talked in spirited tones. The excitement in the students was palpable as they discussed the beginning of the new school year, the new headmaster of Hogwarts and reminisced over the first Hogsmeade trip of the year. Lucius watched the proceedings with distaste, having lost his youthful enthusiasm before he reached his adolescent years. He watched the groups with little interest, losing more hope by the minute as his desired student had yet to show up. He had just about given up entirely when the door swung open, bringing in not only the infamous trio but a gust of cold fall wind as well. Lucius watched as the three fumbled with their cloaks, stripping them off and shaking them out before scouring the tavern for a spot to rest. After greeting several friends and schoolmates they decided on a secluded table near the back of the room. Lucius eyed the threesome with interest as they immediately launched into what looked to be a rather involved discussion. It even looked as though they might be angry with each other but Lucius attributed it to the poor lighting of the tavern. Only when Harry stood tiredly and trudged towards the bar did Lucius stand up. This had been the moment he was waiting for.

Approaching the counter, Lucius was careful to stand back so Harry wouldn't see him, but as soon as Harry had turned to return to his seat, Lucius stepped up. The bartender was sloppy with the drinks, sloshing them gracelessly over the sides of the mugs as he lined them up on the serving platter. Lucius wasted no time in uncorking the brew and pouring a generous amount into the closest mug. To his horror, the distinct odor of the putrid tonic rose in the air, grasping hold of his senses and wringing them silly. No one else seemed to notice however and continued talking in loud, boisterous tones. Lucius, slipping into his cloak along with his sweetest demeanor, offered to take the trio their drinks, a proposition to which the overworked bartender heartily agreed. Smirking to himself, Lucius quickly grabbed the tray and headed to the back table where he hastily offered up the drinks, taking care to make sure that Ron got the special brew, and then strode off to watch the potion take effect from his own corner of the room.


	4. Declarations

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Chapter 4

Ronald polished off his butter beer and wiped his mouth with a satisfied sigh. Never before had anything tasted so good. It was like some elixir of life, with all of the vital emotions thrown in. Happiness, loyalty, faithfulness, excitement—love. Every happy memory he had ever had coursed through his body as if caught on some invisible tidal wave, determined to wash over his entire system. He stood to join his friends, the liquid rolling around contentedly in his stomach. Ron looked inquisitively over to Harry and Hermione. Had they tasted it? It certainly didn't seem that way. Both had remained completely neutral through the entire visit as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. _Maybe I got a fresher batch_, Ron mused to himself although that didn't seem quite plausible either. He knew for a fact that all of the brews were in one large, communal pot that was continually added to. Besides, his hadn't smelled or tasted like butter beer at all. It had smelled wonderful, like…Hermione. "You've officially lost it," Ron muttered to himself as this thought drifted through his head. His drink had smelled like Hermione? That made absolutely no sense at all. Still, the scent had been undeniable.

"Ron, are you coming?" Harry asked, his voice tinged with confusion. Ron glanced at his friends who were already in their heavy cloaks, preparing to brave the cold weather outside. They looked back expectantly.

"Yeah, sorry," Ron mumbled apologetically before jumping to retrieve his own cloak and sweater from the hook by the door.

"What has been going on with you lately? You haven't been able to focus at all, you seem as though you're a hundred miles away!" Hermione noted teasingly, generating an awkward laugh that rolled through the trio.

"I've just got some things on my mind," Ron defended lightly as the group stepped outside. Almost immediately the wind kicked up, tugging playfully at their cloaks and biting the noses and ears of the weary travelers.

"We'd better hurry back, it looks like a storm is coming in," Harry noted, glancing at the cluster of dark clouds, hovering ominously over the sleepy little town. Hermione and Ron nodded silently, ducking their heads in unison to avoid the latest bluster of wind that swept their way. The three trudged dutifully back in the direction of the school, pausing only once for Ron to cast one last questioning glance at the tavern.

If a storm had hit earlier Ron never would have known it. As soon as he had returned to Hogwarts a wave of exhaustion had riddled his body giving him time only to strip out of his cloak and collapse onto his bed. He had slept soundly after that, dreaming up until the minute he woke up, although of what, he could not remember. It had been good though, causing him to wake up with a goofy smile plastered across his face as he padded towards the bathroom to shower and dress for the day.

"There you are! I was worried you would never wake up!" Harry's energetic voice rang out from across the room. Ron turned to face his friend, the wave of euphoria that had filled him ever since he had woken up pulsing strongly under his skin.

"I don't know what came over me—I was exhausted," Ron admitted, running a hand through his messy red hair. At Harry's worried look Ron smiled, "I feel much better now though. It must have been from the cold." Harry seemed to accept this excuse and strode over to his friend.

"There's Quidditch practice until this afternoon but I already told the team you weren't coming. I thought you might be sick. Hermione and some others were going to go outside and study though, you might be able to catch up with them," Harry suggested, raising a bushy black eyebrow suggestively. Ron had to smile at his best friend. Although he had never actually voiced his feelings for Hermione to anyone other than himself Harry had picked up on them long ago and even though he didn't opt out of too many group activities he did make sure that Ron and Hermione were alone every now and then. It was something that, if said, would have embarrassed Ron beyond belief, but he never failed to show his gratitude.

"Are you sure?" Ron asked, already halfway out of the door. Harry laughed and nodded, shooing Ron away with his hand.

If the night before had been any sort of premonition for a storm one would never have guessed it, Ron thought looking around the grounds. Even though it was still morning the sun had raised high into the sky, sprinkling a subdued heat across the landscape. The clouds that had hovered so portentously before had burned away, leaving nothing but a long stretch of clear blue sky. Somewhere in the distance a bird was singing in high tones, interjecting its merriment across the grounds of Hogwarts. Ron smiled at this, a good sign he decided, and continued his search for Hermione. He had walked around for thirty minutes before he finally came upon her, surrounded by Lavender and Parvati. They were sitting under a grove of trees a fair distance from the castle grounds, all three of engaged in an animated conversation. Ron watched from a distance, his eyes trained on Hermione.

Almost immediately his stomach tightened as if grabbed suddenly by some invisible source. His throat dried momentarily, leaving him squeaking for breath as his palms became cool and clammy. He could feel color rising in his cheeks at a rapid rate and knew instinctively that if Hermione chanced to look up she would immediately notice it. His heart was the one thing that hurt the most, throbbing almost painfully in his chest as if trying to sever ties with his system and break free of its own volition. Ron felt that if he were to reach up he would be able to feel an outline on his chest where his heart was pumping rapidly. It increased its velocity quickly until Ron felt almost dizzy with exertion. Then, as quickly as it had started up, everything stopped. The sudden lack of motion threw Ron oddly off balance as his system struggled to recover. He breathed easier, his lungs grasping for air as if an insatiable fervor had overcome him. His palms dried quickly and his throat was quick to remoisten. His heart stopped throbbing in his chest. Casting a worried glance to Hermione, Ron wondered if she had seen anything. From the look on her face it didn't seem as though she had seen any of Ron's latest show as she tossed back her head and laughed at something Lavender had said.

Ron watched her with delight, a pleasant euphoria settling over his body. It was as though he were truly seeing her for the first time. Her pristine complexion accented by the rosy hue to her cheeks. Her ginger locks springing out wildly from her head in a cascading waterfall that descended around her thin frame. Her body, so trim and firm beneath her baggy school attire. Her large brown eyes, sparkling like diamonds when she laughed, and so deep that Ron wondered how he had never gotten lost in them before. Ron stepped forward into the clearing so he towered over the girls who looked up, startled. When they saw who it was they eased up, scooting over to make room for him.

"Ron! Harry was worried about you. He thought you were sick, are you okay?" Hermione asked, standing so that she was more even with him. When he said nothing, she continued, "Ron, are you okay?" She pressed. Ron looked at her, how her eyes were questioning his, how her lips, as pink as cherries, were parted slightly in concern. The silence was deafening. Ron felt something deep inside of him reach out to Hermione, a hidden carnal lust. He wanted to grab her by the shoulders and bring her in to him, taking in her scent, her warmth, the feel of her skin against his….Instead, Ron reached out to brush away some of the tree blossoms that had fallen from the grove into her hair like nature's confetti, and smiled.

"Hermione," he said in a voice that startled both Hermione and Ron. It was so passionate that Hermione couldn't help but blush. Lavender and Parvati who were still seated in the underbrush giggled girlishly, knowing something was changing before their eyes. Ron inhaled deeply, catching Hermione's scent mixed with the fauna around them. Then, as softly as he could, as if caught on a whisper, Ron leaned in to her. "Hermione, I love you."


	5. Clarifications

Disclaimer: I don't own anything!

Chapter Five

Hermione blinked soundlessly, trying to determine Ron's true intentions. _Did he just say he loved me?_ Hermione thought wildly, her heart rate increasing. She felt like her mind was spinning in a thousand directions. _What does this mean?_ She asked herself, trying to sort out the situation in her head before she said anything aloud—anything she might regret. After all, what if he had been joking? She didn't want to risk humiliating herself if it had merely been a poorly timed ruse. Hermione essayed a few shaky breaths before finding her voice.

"You—you what?" Hermione hissed in a nervous whisper. Ron, still smiling broadly, stared back at her. Hermione noted that there wasn't any hint of mockery in his face. In fact, besides the smile that threatened to crack his face in two, he looked dead serious. His eyes, normally so playful and laughing had deepened as if this were the most important thing in the world to him. _Maybe it is_, Hermione thought with a smile and instantly felt stupid. _Of course I'm not the most important thing to him_, she chided herself sharply. _With the horocruxes and fighting Voldemort, the beginning of the new school year and all of our new classes, graduating this year—_Hermione had to stop herself as Ron stepped forward, clutching her shoulders.

"I said I love you Hermione," Ron clarified, an unexplained breathiness falling over his tone. Behind them Lavender and Parvati had stopped giggling and were now watching the two with wide, unbelieving eyes. Hermione opened and closed her mouth repeatedly, trying to find the words to express what she was feeling. Instead, all she managed was,

"I don't understand." As soon as it was out of her mouth Hermione felt stupid. It was like asking for help in class, not knowing an answer, admitting defeat. She had been so careful never to let the words cross her lips yet there they were, slipping out so easily. "I mean, I don't understand why you're saying this to me." Realizing how that must have sounded Hermione added a hasty, "_Now_. I don't know why you're saying this to me _now_." She cast a nonchalant glance at Lavender and Parvati who were now whispering exclamations of shock barely audible from behind their hands. Ron, bless his soul, was still smiling goofily, staring directly into Hermione's face.

"I love you—I LOVE YOU!" Ron was saying over and over as if he had been stuck on repeat. Each time he said it he got louder and Hermione could see that they were already starting to draw people over. Reaching out, Hermione grasped Ron's arm and pulled him over to the side of the clearing, taking care to keep her voice low.

"Maybe we should do this somewhere more private," she hissed, casting a wary glance at the giggling girls around her. She had waited for this moment for so long and she did not want to share it with everyone else. She wanted it to be a private moment, for her memories alone. She wanted to remember it how it had happened to her, not relive it through gross misinterpretations that were sure to come from her classmates. Once she was assured that they were alone, Hermione turned back to Ron.

"Hermione I love you. I've loved you from the first day that we met—well, maybe not the first day. I think it was more around the time Harry and I saved you from the troll in our first year. Seeing you like that—there was no way I could not fall in love. After that, I was lost. I couldn't—I _can't_—stop thinking of you. You occupy my every thought, every action, every waking moment. I love you Hermione, and I don't know how else to tell you." When he was done he stared breathlessly at Hermione, as if waiting for her to reply. Hermione however couldn't put together an intelligible sentence to save her life. It was as if her wildest dream was playing out in front of her. _Ron—in love with me? How could I not have seen it? How could I have been so blind, all this time? If I had just been braver, if I had just admitted to my feelings we could have been together such a long time ago! _

"Ron I don't know what to say," Hermione said honestly. For a second the two of them just stared at eachother, unaware of what was supposed to happen next. _Am I supposed to make the next move, since he made the first one?_ Hermione thought to herself. _Is he supposed to kiss me? Oh my god, is Ron going to kiss me? What should I do if he tries?_ Hermione was so overwhelmed in her own thoughts that she didn't even notice that she had started shaking from the sudden coolness of the shadows. Ron however picked up on it immediately and draped his cloak around her slim shoulders. She smiled gratefully.

"You don't have to say anything," Ron said easily, his hand lingering on her shoulder where it had landed when he had cloaked her. Then, without any reservation, Ron pulled her towards him, catching her in kiss that burned all the way from their mouths to the soft ground below them.


	6. Discoveries

Disclaimer: I don't own anything!

Chapter Six

"It has to be a mistake," Harry said quickly. After the Quidditch practice the trio had reunited in the Gryffindor common room, Ron's arm slung casually over Hermione's shoulder, and had recounted the earlier scene. Harry had listened with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, commenting and encouraging them in the appropriate places and smiling at their obvious happiness. As soon as Ron had gone off to bed though, Harry had been quick about sharing his doubts. It couldn't be right, he was sure of it. It was just so unlike Ron. Hermione however was a little more than annoyed. She looked at Harry in shock, her eyes narrowing into tiny, disapproving slits.

"And why is _that_? Am I so unlovable that something like this could _never_ happen to me?" Hermione demanded, folding her arms over her chest defensively. Harry sighed, shaking his head.

"Hermione, you know I didn't mean it like _that_. I simply meant that that wasn't Ron. True he's loved you for years, but he has never—_would_ never—do something that daring. And in front of Lavender and Parvati? Come on Hermione, be reasonable." Despite her anger, she had to admit that it _was_ pretty unusual for Ron. He wasn't exactly the best at sharing his feelings. Especially in front of others, others who were likely to have the whole school buzzing in a matter of minutes. Hermione groaned inwardly at the thought of Lavender and Parvati. No doubt they had already spread the story through the entire house or worse, the school. By breakfast Hermione knew that everyone would be talking about it; staring at her with sidelong glances and knowing smirks. _How could I have not known it wasn't genuine?_ Hermione asked herself. _I knew that Ron would never have opened himself up like that if he wasn't positive of how I would react_. Silently she cursed herself for letting the romantic side of her brain temporarily blind the scholarly side.

"I suppose you're right Harry," she mumbled in defeat, flopping heavily onto a nearby chair. He shrugged apologetically as if he regretted voicing his doubts. He hadn't wanted to make Hermione angry. He had just been concerned for Ron.

"Now I guess the question is; why would he do that? I mean, what would suddenly make him so…eager?" Hermione shrugged.

"Maybe he realized that I wasn't going to wait around forever and he better get his arse in gear if he ever wanted a chance with me," Hermione said bitterly, having lost all the raw giddiness she had been brimming with earlier. She knew deep down that Harry was right. She just didn't want to admit how blind she had been. Harry sighed loudly, sitting in the chair across from Hermione.

"If you aren't going to help me figure this out…." He warned tiredly. Quidditch practice had gone late and he had loads of homework to do. He wasn't in the mood to deal with Hermione's sulkiness.

"Fine, fine, I'll help you figure this out," Hermione snapped, sitting up in the chair. She faced the warm fire, brushing her hair away from her face. She knew that she had to focus if she wanted to figure anything out but she was having trouble clearing her head. A moment ago her head had been dancing with possibilities; for a moment Ron had finally felt like she had for so many years. Not only felt it either, he had admitted it to her with such unbridled passion that it was hard not to get swept up in the moment. _Think Hermione_, she told herself, trying to take in all of the facts. _When did the change occur? That's easy, right after we left the pub. He was acting all funny and giddy when we were parting and then he just conked out once we got him home._ Hermione made a mental note of this and continued. _What are some of his symptoms? Well, besides his declaration of love (which couldn't possibly be an honest admittance);_ she glared at Harry who was thinking by himself, _he had been acting funny, and sort of lightheaded. He was loud and could barely keep his eyes off me._ Hermione bit her lip, turning the facts over in her head. Now that everything was laid out in front of her they did seem a little fishy. _God, I was stupid,_ Hermione scolded herself; _I was so swept up in the moment I didn't even realize that he was acting so strange. _

"Have you though of anything?" Harry asked suddenly, breaking Hermione's train of thought. She rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"Have _you_?" She asked, her voice laden with sarcasm. He shrugged.

"Actually, I was thinking maybe it was something he ate. Like, maybe the butterbeer was bad or something. The brews are just added to, never cleaned out. You don't know how long that pot had been sitting out—or how much magic it has been exposed to. Those kinds of pubs are filled with all sorts of magic." Hermione looked at Harry skeptically, one eyebrow raised.

"You think that Ron suddenly decided to declare his love for me because of food poisoning?" The doubt was evident in Hermione's dry tone. Harry shrugged and turned back towards the fire, trying to come up with a more suitable solution. Suddenly, something that Harry had said clicked in Hermione's brain. _Maybe it was something he ate…you don't know how much magic it has been exposed to._

"That's it!" Hermione cried loudly. _It explains everything; the sudden lightheadedness, the sleepiness, the sudden declaration of love._

"What, what's 'it'?" Harry asked, turning once more to face his friend. Hermione however was too excited to explain. She looked at the clock in the common room, its long spindly fingers depicting a somber hour. Hermione bit her lip. There was no way she would be able to get into the library this late. Even if she did manage to sneak past the patrol around the hallways the library had long been closed. Still, she knew she wouldn't be able to get to sleep now—not with the discovery she had just made.

"Harry, I have to research this. I think I know what's wrong with him!" Hermione stuttered excitedly. Her head was going a mile a minute—she could barely piece together a simple sentence. All of the resentment she had been feeling earlier about not _really_ being loved had been pushed down to accommodate her thirst for knowledge—for the truth.

"Hermione, what's going on? What's wrong with Ron?" Harry pressed eagerly, impatient to know what Hermione was going on about.

"Harry don't you see—it was something Ron drank at that stupid pub!" Hermione was saying in a distracted tone. She had bigger things to think about—how she was going to break into the library for instance—and she couldn't be sidetracked trying to explain the situation to Harry. Harry, for his part, was sufficiently confused.

"_Hermione!_" He said, grabbing her by the shoulders. She stared straight at him, thinking vaguely how it was the second time she had been grabbed like that in one day. "Hermione, breathe okay? Now, tell me slowly. _What is wrong with Ron?_" Hermione took in a deep breath, calming the nerves that had been running on high for the past minute or two.

"It was something in his drink—don't you see?" Hermione asked. When she still received a blank look from Harry she sighed. "A _love potion_ Harry—Ron was slipped a love potion."


	7. Reciprocation and Devastation

Disclaimer: I don't own anything!

Chapter Seven

Hermione had been up all night studying. She had rifled through every book in the library (or so it seemed by the trail of books she had left out) and showed no signs of stopping. She knew there had to be something in the library about love potions—there _had_ to be. She was sure of it. Still, as she reached for her thousandth book of the night—well technically now it was morning—and surveyed the grim prospects it offered, she couldn't help but feel a little defeated. Maybe love potions were considered too much of a danger; they were after all one of the highest forms of necromancy. Manipulating one's emotions so that they were controlled by forces outside their own body was a serious offense. Some love potions were even dangerous, killing not only the inflicted through unrequited love, but the object of desire as well. Hermione shuddered, silently praying that it wasn't a strong potion. _It may not even be real_, Hermione told herself, brushing away the stray hairs that had fallen out of her hasty ponytail and now framed her face. _I wouldn't put it past Fred and George to have slipped him a pretend potion of theirs—it has probably already worn off!_ Hermione mused to herself, but even she was having a hard time accepting that as the solution. Fred and George didn't try out their products on family members that often—that honor had mostly been reserved for Snape. Now that they didn't go to Hogwarts however, Hermione couldn't be sure who their next victim had become. _They always did like teasing Ron,_ Hermione thought but it still didn't quite make sense. _They weren't even at the pub that night. _

A noise behind Hermione caused her to jump up quickly, Harry's invisibility cloak slipping from her shoulders. She went to grab it but she wasn't quick enough.

"Miss Granger?" She looked up into the stony face of Professor McGonagall. _Headmaster McGonagall_, Hermione corrected herself quietly. Several months into their seventh year and Hermione still couldn't quite accept the fact that Dumbledore was no longer the headmaster of Hogwarts. He had been such a large part in her schooling—he had been such a large part of the school itself—that it still seemed foreign to refer to Professor McGonagall in his place. "What are you doing here?" Hermione blushed, trying to hide the books she had pulled out with little success. They were everywhere; their self-explanatory titles giving away her intentions.

"I was going to put everything back. I—I was studying for an extra credit essay and I got a little carried away." Hermione stuttered, hurriedly scooping up an armload of books and distributing them in the correct order on the shelves. McGonagall regarded her curiously, her face poised and stately. Hermione glanced nervously from the headmaster to the books, wondering at her intentions. Dumbledore at least had never been able to conceal a smile of amusement at her antics or even a frown of discern. With McGonagall she never knew what she was in for. After a minute or two, Headmaster McGonagall turned to leave, her long black dress robes swishing around her ankles. Hermione watched her go with a feeling of confusion. _No questions? No scolding? What's going on? Shouldn't I be docked points for breaking the rules or given points for being so studious?_ Hermione asked herself. She had never expected that it would be over just like that. She had never expected that her actions would merely be ignored.

As if sensing Hermione's discontent, Headmaster McGonagall paused at the doorway of the library, thinking something over. Finally, Hermione heard her sigh loudly, finally deciding upon a course of action. _Here it comes_, Hermione thought bitterly, _my punishment_. Instead however, McGonagall merely cleared her throat, never turning back to face Hermione. "Once you have finished cleaning up in here I would suggest you go down to breakfast. After that is finished you may come up to my office—I think you'll find more books for your," McGonagall paused, "_studies_."

* * *

Hermione raced through her schoolwork later that day, her mind reeling at a hundred miles per hour. She had, of course, been in Dumbledore's office numerous times, but given the circumstances to most of her visits, she had never been able to make a thorough examination of his office. She had always been too preoccupied with the fact that a) she was about to be expelled or b) Harry had just narrowly escaped some heinous death. It hadn't left much time to peruse his selected readings. Still, Hermione was sure that whatever was offered in the office would prove much more helpful than whatever the library had. Plus, McGonagall must have moved her things into the office now; she was sure to have some books containing interesting subject matter.

"—Hermione!" Hermione jumped at the sound of her name, so close at her ear. She turned to see Ron staring at her with a confused expression playing across his freckled face. She felt a pang of guilt at having neglected to tell Ron and Harry about her open invitation to McGonagall's office, figuring that she would be able to get more work done without Harry poking around for notes or images that Dumbledore left and without Ron being—well, without Ron acting like himself, love potion or not. "Hermione are you okay?" Ron asked for what was obviously not the first time. Hermione nodded quickly, mostly to shake her thoughts into place but consequently sending a shower of curls and frizz down around her shoulders.

Ron watched the scene longingly, a deep pang of lust reaching out to his friend. Hermione was just so achingly beautiful that he could hardly contain himself. He could feel a whirring in his head—like when he had seen her earlier—and focused solely on capturing her attention. He sat next to her easily, draping his arm loosely around her shoulders. Instead of the warm greeting he had expected though, he was met with a cold, dismissive glare.

"Oh come on Ron, I'm busy enough as it is without," Hermione paused, trying to assess exactly what was going on, "_this_." She concluded finally, shrugging his arm off her shoulders and scooting away, nearly tipping over a bottle of ink. At her resistance Ron sobered up considerably. The initial giddiness of the potion seemed to be wearing off as the tonic entered his bloodstream. Hermione had read enough about love potions to know that this was how they worked. Even the vaguest explanations of love spells had included an insertion about how they came to overtake the body, which was usually straight through the bloodstream. That way the body could never truly be rid of the potion, leaving the only method of treating it as death.

Ron stared at her; obviously wounded. _Yesterday she was just as eager as I was_, Ron thought to himself, hurt cascading through his body. _What happened? Was it something I did? What's wrong?_ Hermione read the confusion behind Ron's expression easily and automatically felt terrible. She remembered reading in one of the books that most people under the influence of love spells were completely unaware of their predicaments. _He has no clue why I'm turning him away_, Hermione reflected remorsefully. _He thinks I hate him_. Hermione bit her lip determinedly to keep herself from consoling Ron. _You have to be strong_, she told herself, _Ron will never be cured if you give in to him_. Still, the urge to envelope him into a hug of comfort was almost overpowering.

It was then that Ron stepped forward, grasping Hermione roughly by the shoulders. She was so close to him that he could smell the freshness of her body. It was an oddly intoxicating medley of soap and cinnamon. A lethal combination apparently—at least to Ron. Hermione froze when he grabbed her, her features becoming guarded and questioning.

"Ron really, I don't think we should be doing this. We shouldn't—we _can't_—continue this type of relationship—," Hermione began but never got to finish as Ron's mouth came crashing down on hers. She reeled with surprise, wilting in his grip like a plucked flower left too long in the sun. She wanted to hate it—_it's just a spell_, she reminded herself—but it was so hard not to enjoy it. He tasted sweet, like pumpkin pasties and butterbeer.

Ron's hands slid from Hermione's shoulders, separating to opposite parts of her body. One hand slid down her arm and around her back, pulling her warm body against his own. The other hand slid from her shoulders to her hair, running his fingers through Hermione's wild mane. She moaned, pressing her body into his. She couldn't help taking pleasure in his touch, the feel of his heart palpitating wildly against her chest, the sensation on her scalp as his fingers massaged her temples. Ron's kiss evolved slowly, becoming hungrier and more passionate with each passing second. It was as if he were trying to take in every ounce of her body, all at once. Hermione let herself be swept away by the kiss, reciprocating his advances with pleasure. Suddenly, something in Hermione's mind clicked and she pulled away so quickly that both Ron and herself went sprawling in opposite directions. Ron let out a painful whine as if he were a whipped dog, and slapped his forehead with his hand.

"Damnit Hermione!" He bellowed, still reeling from the experience of being so forcefully ripped apart. He struggled to his feet, agitation plaguing his tone. "Damnit! Damnit! You just—_ugh_!" He cried, slapping at his forehead. Hermione blanched.

"_Me_?" She cried defensively, "You're the one who grabbed _me_!" Ron stood, color rising in his cheeks.

"But you—you're the one who keeps leading _me _on! God Hermione, you act like you like me but then you keep turning away! What the hell is going on with you?" Hermione struggled to answer, wondering if she should tell Ron her hypothesis about his current condition. She didn't want to upset him further but she felt that he aught to know. She glanced around helplessly, realizing suddenly that Harry had never even come in with Ron. This in itself was troubling. Harry was always with Ron—and was more likely to be rooted at his side 24/7 now that Ron was in potential danger. The fact that Harry had left his friend alone served to confuse Hermione.

"Where's Harry?" Hermione asked quickly before she could think of the affect of the words on Ron. Almost immediately he paled, as if suddenly seeing the truth. Then, all at once, color returned to his face in such a flash that Hermione was mildly surprised he didn'tseem dizzy or faint at the head rush.

"_Harry?_" Ron screeched incredulously. "_Harry?_ Is _he_ all you care about? _Harry?_" Ron's voice was becoming more irrational by the minute. "Well go then! Go to your precious _Harry!_ God knows what he's up to! Probably saving the world or something like that!" Ron shrieked. He kept saying 'Harry' like it was a bad word or something. Hermione paled, a sick feeling rising in her stomach. She and Ron had had their fair share of rows over the past few years but none had been as bad as this. He had never just yelled and yelled at her; he had never acted so hurt.

"That isn't what I meant!" Hermione cried defensively but her cries fell on deaf ears. Ron showed no signs of letting up on his rant.

"Harry isn't here for you whenever you need him ("That's not true!" Hermione had interjected) and Harry doesn't love you like I do Hermione! He'll never be able to love you like I do!" Hermione was surprised to find that her cheeks were suddenly wet with tears.

"You don't love me Ron!" She cried, choking back sobs. She didn't want to cry in front of Ron, she didn't want to give him an excuse to take her in his arms. She knew that if she gave in now she wouldn't be able to stop any of his advances. "You _can't_ love me! It's all fake!" Ron paused with his tirade, taking in deep, ragged breaths. He looked confused.

"Of course I love you Hermione," he said softly. "I always have." On that note, Ron turned to leave, stalking loudly out of the common room.

* * *

Hermione stared out the window, her eyes as glassy and cold as the windowpanes. Rain coated the ground, the sky drowning the school grounds with its bitter tears. A single tear graced Hermione's pale cheek, running slowly down her jaw like the raindrops running down the school building. Hermione sighed heavily, a breathy sigh escaping her lips. She pressed her head against the cool glass, resolving to stay like that until Ron forgave her—or at least spoke to her. A sudden noise from behind caused Hermione to rethink her notions as she wiped blindly at her cheeks, mopping up all evidence of her despair.

"Yes?" Hermione asked, slightly startled, turning to face the unexpected visitor. It was Harry, his slim frame swaddled in robes, filling the doorway. His breathing was loud and haggard, and he drew it in with short, choppy gasps. His hair too was a mess, poking up in all directions. Hermione stared at her friend, momentarily forgetting her earlier sorrow. Harry's robes were twisted messily around his lanky frame and his glasses stood out against his pale face like the eyes of a raccoon. Make that a _rabid _raccoon.

"Harry—what's wrong?" Hermione pressed, all traces of her pain having been replaced by her concern for Harry. He stared at her, shakily making his way over to a spare chair. He sat slowly, attempting to regulate his breathing. Hermione guessed that he had just come from Dumbledore's—ahem, _McGonagall's_—office. It was a safe assumption considering that ever since Dumbledore's death he had spent his fair share of time in there. Once when Hermione had asked him about it, he had said that McGonagall allowed him to come in sometimes when he needed to talk about Dumbledore's untimely demise, although Hermione guessed that Harry didn't just talk while in the office. After McGonagall had extended the invitation to Hermione earlier, she couldn't help but wonder if she had made the same proposition to Harry. No doubt Harry had been poking through Dumbledore's things for months, trying to decode some hidden meaning among all of it. From the looks of it, Harry's persistent digging had paid off.

"Harry—what's wrong? Are you okay?" Hermione demanded, leaning in so that she was eye to eye with him. He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. He licked his lips as if preparing to talk and then wiped absently at his mouth. His feet tapped against the cold stone floor. He was fidgety—unable to concentrate on one thing for very long. Hermione felt like shaking him to draw him back in to his senses but she guessed that it might shake him up even further. Finally, he calmed down, the mind numbing shock of his latest discovery momentarily exiting his system. He stared intensely at Hermione, so deeply that her own gaze faltered.

"Hermione," He began, his tone breathy and quiet. Hermione leaned in so she wouldn't miss whatever he was going to say. "Hermione, I—I found another horocrux."


	8. Complications

Disclaimer: I don't own anything!

Chapter Eight

Voldemort was angry. Not that he was ever particularly happy. Even on the best of days the most he had managed was mild bemusement. So to say that he was angry was not especially telling. It pretty much described his usual demeanor. There would only be one day when he would be truly happy and that would be when Harry Potter was dead. Since that had not happened and showed no signs of happening anytime _soon_, Voldemort was in a constant state of irritation. On this particular day however, Voldemort's agitation had reached a higher level than usual.

"_Useless!_" He roared, pointing a shaky finger at Lucius, who, for his part, stood his ground, however scared he was.

"My Lord, I want to apologize for my alleged wrongs—however, I would like to beg you to remember that the potion has only been in place a few days—"

"Silence!" Voldemort raged, his dark slits of eyes glowering wrathfully. "You assured me that the potion would be wreaking havoc by now! The Weasley child is supposed to be eaten up in agony! The trio is supposed to be disbanded; feuding! What do you have to say in your defense?" Lucius opened his mouth and closed it frantically.

"My Lord, I beg of you to hear me out. I guarantee you that the potion was at its maximum strength. It has only been a few days; we must be patient. It may take a few more days but I would bet my life that it _will _work and the Golden Trio _will_ be disbanded." Voldemort looked up, studying the Deatheater before him. Lucius had always been loyal. He always offered his services. He was Voldemort's right-hand man. He had always been good. Still, Voldemort wasn't one to keep his cohorts particularly close. One Deatheater was just like another. Lucius could be replaced.

"That's a risky bet," Voldemort began slowly, his raspy breath hissing out from his robes like an iron exhaling steam. Lucius felt his insides turn uneasily as he regarded the dark lord before him. What was he getting at? What bet? Lucius thought wildly, racking his brain for answers. As if reading his thoughts, Voldemort continued. "Betting your life that this will be successful; it's an awful risky wager," Voldemort hissed darkly. Lucius felt sick but was determined to keep an impassive countenance. "Still, I accept."

"My Lord—," Lucius began but stopped suddenly when Voldemort held up his hand.

"That is enough Lucius. I have faith that our new—_deal_—will serve to…speed up the process?" Voldemort said curtly, standing to leave. Lucius stood numbly, the basic courtesy he had grown up with causing his to rise involuntarily at the departure of his lord. Voldemort held up his hand, excusing Lucius from his duties.

"I do not require an escort out. You just stay here and monitor the…progress." With that, Voldemort disappeared, leaving Lucius to puzzle over his predicament completely alone.

Lucius was at a loss for what to do. He had carefully hand-selected each and every ingredient. He had followed the instructions down to the letter. He had checked and rechecked the process and ingredients after each step. He had sacrificed months in order to prepare the mixture. Yet, something was wrong. According to the instructions, the potion was supposed to be eating the Weasley boy up by now. At the first rejection, which both Lucius and Voldemort had watched with smiles of excitement (well, as excited as those two could manage); Ron was supposed to had endured a pain like no other. It was supposed to slowly eat him up until he was nothing more than a shell of a person. It was supposed to kill him from the inside, working its way out. What had happened was that Ron had gotten sufficiently angry and had stormed off. He had been upset, but there had been no evidence of physical pain or writhing in despair. Something was horribly wrong, and Lucius was determined to figure it out.

"Lucius dear?" Lucius looked up as Narcissa pushed open the door to his study and stood quietly in the doorway.

"Come in," Lucius muttered distractedly, figuring that he could use the break. He had been obsessing over the potion far too long. A distraction might be good. Narcissa walked over to his desk, her feet padding softly against the cold stone floor. She put a thin hand on her husband's shoulder, attempting to comfort him. She could tell that he was upset and wanted to soothe him any way she could.

"Do you want me to have the elves make you anything? Something to relax you a bit?" Narcissa asked. Lucius shook his head, covering his wife's hand with his own_. I made sure every single ingredient was perfect!_ He moaned inwardly. _What went wrong?_ _Everything was perfect! I picked the roots myself!_

"Draco's marks came in today. They are remarkably better than last time. I wouldn't be surprised if he received top honors," Narcissa continued absently. Lucius stood up immediately, nearly knocking Narcissa down in his haste. _Of course!_ He though to himself, anger filling his chest. _Draco! I knew that he wasn't good for anything! _

"Send a letter to the school—I want to see my son." Lucius snarled, racing out of the study. Narcissa watched him go, a startled expression gracing her flawless visage. She had been about to respond but realized too quickly that Lucius was already gone.

* * *

Draco entered his father's study, his stomach entwined in knots. He had no clue as to why his father had called him home for the weekend but he knew that it wasn't good. His father paid him little attention and that he did lavish on his only son was not positive. Now was no exception and Draco was fully aware of it. Clutching his wand stiffly in one hand, Draco took a deep breath and sighed.

"I wouldn't consider a career in espionage—you sound like a mountain troll," Lucius remarked sharply, looking up from the book he had been hunched over. Draco flinched slightly at the remark but his face remained stony and unchanged. When he didn't respond, Lucius grew agitated. "Well sit down then, this isn't a social visit." Draco nodded dutifully and in two strides had reached the desk, sitting down across from his father.

"What is the premise of this visit then?" Draco snapped sharply with more courage than he felt. Lucius' eyes narrowed darkly as he sat up, taking in the sight of his son. _Insufferable little thing, isn't he? _Lucius thought to himself with a glimmer of distaste and pride. On one hand he admired his assertiveness, but on the other hand he was annoyed by Draco's disrespect.

"I wanted to ask you about a certain vial you sent to me." At Draco's confused expression, Lucius elaborated. "The vial of Miss Granger's blood." Draco paled in horror as everything became startlingly clear.


	9. Deception

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Chapter Nine

"Hermione I swear, if you do not hurry up you will be left behind." Hermione glanced up from her packing, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. She sighed heavily.

"Harry—honestly! I want to make sure we're prepared for everything!" She exclaimed in exasperation. Harry fought the urge to smile. Leave it to Hermione to make sure they were "prepared" when there was another potential horocrux out, waiting to be destroyed. When Harry had found out about the potential horocrux he had barely been able to think about it—much less tell Hermione and Ron. He had assumed that they would be equally stunned. Ron had been astounded but Hermione, well, Hermione had been absolutely logical. Almost immediately she had leapt into action. Unfortunately for Harry who was eager to be on his way, the actions had been largely the planning sort. She had insisted on planning out each and every action, as well as what they would be bringing.

"Hermione if you keep at this, by the time we get there, Voldemort will have moved the bloody thing!" Harry pressed good-naturedly. Hermione sighed heavily, brushing her hair from her face.

"Harry, don't you understand? Dumbledore nearly died when you two went to find one of those blasted objects. I want to make sure we are prepared." Hermione explained. She looked at her knapsack, full of specific items and other necessities. Harry looked at the loot cynically, drawing out several books that looked large enough to serve as boulders.

"Hermione—do you honestly think we're going to have a lot of down time to be reading? Just bring your wand and let's go!" Harry cried impatiently. Hermione stood up, weighing this decision in her head. Harry however was already tugging at her hand, dragging her along.

"Harry—wait! We need warm cloaks, and we should bring food in case we stay out longer than we anticipated, and you'll need a broom, and we should—," Hermione stopped, realizing that her protests were falling on deaf ears. Harry was dragging her along at rapid speeds, tearing out of the common room. Hermione followed at breakneck pace, her hair flying wildly around her.

"What about Ron?" Hermione managed as they whipped through a corridor. Although neither had been particularly keen on informing Ron of the latest discoveries, it had been decided that it was necessary. Both Harry and Hermione were reluctant to leave him hanging around on his own, and neither wanted to involve anyone else in their current predicament. Also, tracking down a horocrux was big—an experience that Ron was entitled to share with them, having been a pivotal part of the trio since the very beginning. Neither Harry nor Hermione could bring themselves to exclude Ron from the adventure, despite the state he was in. So, against the better judgment of them both, they had disclosed their plan to a very intrigued Ron.

"He's waiting outside—he has the brooms." Harry explained breathlessly, rushing down another hallway.

When Harry and Hermione finally slowed down, both were gasping for breath, leaning heavily on eachother for support. Ron eyed the two quizzically, handing the brooms out to the pair. They accepted them gratefully, pausing to regain their energy. Hermione was the first to recover, staring at the two boys in front of her with an expression of devotion. For the first time the gravity of the situation that stretched before the trio had sunk in and she was filled with a feeling of heavy anxiety. Hermione shivered in the cool evening, nervously fingering a strand of hair. _At least the rain's let up_, she thought to herself, idly fastening her robe tighter around her slim frame. Ron noticed this action and immediately offered up his own cloak, which Hermione gratefully declined. As much as she wanted to take it, she knew that by taking the cloak she would only encourage Ron's affections, something that Hermione was desperate to discourage.

"Right then," Harry said shakily. He glanced between his friends, grateful that they had agreed to go with him. It wasn't like he had thought that they would refuse, but he had had lingering doubts about how readily they would jump at it. Thankfully though, both had seemed enthused over the venture and had expressed little worry—well, except for Hermione who had set about packing them all bags. "I suppose we should go." Hermione and Ron stared at Harry, the three of them taking a collective breath. They thought back over all of their adventures in the past years. They all seemed so—trivial. As if they had been leading up to this and this alone.

"I suppose you're right," Hermione admitted, mounting the broom. She shivered involuntarily at the action. It was no secret that she was afraid of flying; well, not so much afraid as bothered by it. It was one of the only things that Hermione didn't excel at and she couldn't help feeling queasy when she was so high up in the air. She always felt teetery and off balance, as if she were on a balance beam. Only there wasn't a mat below to break her fall.

"Are you going to be alright?" Hermione jumped at Ron's voice. He had leaned in so that his nose was touching her hair. His warm breath tickled her neck like a feather softly dusting her neck. Hermione shivered, remembering the last time they had been that close. Her lips tingled and her pulse quickened immediately but Ron didn't seem as though he were going to be kissing her any time soon. Hermione looked away, nodding her head.

"I-I just don't like flying that much." Hermione admitted quietly, clasping the broom in her hands. Ron nodded his head knowingly, mounting his own broom. Hermione glanced at Ron and Harry who had already walked up ahead, eager to begin the journey. Both boys were well practiced in flying, having spent many hours practicing Quidditch on broomstick. Hermione felt a pang of jealousy and regret race through her body. _Why didn't I ever play with them?_ She fumed silently. _They always asked me to play at the Burrow. I should have known that it would come in handy to be a good flier someday! _Truthfully though, Hermione had never thought the skill to be very useful. At school she never had a need for it and outside of school she lived with her parents in the muggle world. Sure she spent a considerable amount of time at the Burrow, but they had always had the option of traveling by floo powder, and Hermione knew that she could always apparate. Flying had never seemed like a top priority—until now.

"Don't worry about it," Ron assured her, tugging his cloak tighter. Although the rain had stopped, the wind was beginning to pick up, ensuring a cold and harrowing flight. Ron stared at Hermione, her beautiful brown eyes searching his like a fawn looking at a headlight. He took a chance—reaching out to brush her heavily cloaked arm with his own—and relaxed when she almost seemed to welcome the touch. Ron had to stop himself from wrapping an arm around her, knowing instinctively that once he did he would no longer be in control of his actions. He didn't want to be like that with Hermione—he didn't want her to see him like that. So instead of enveloping her in an embrace that would surely release all of his built up passion, he merely gave her arm a comforting squeeze. "I'll be right behind you the whole time—I won't let you fall."

* * *

"Where _are _we?" Hermione asked, casting furtive glances around the starkly lit caves that Harry seemed to be drawing closer to. Hermione, between grasping her broom for dear life to navigate through the gusty winds and knowing that Ron was securely behind her, his arms poised to catch her if the situation occurred, had been all but oblivious to her surroundings. Now that she had time to breathe however, things were looking vastly unfamiliar. Glancing around at the dismal landscape that stretched out before her, Hermione found herself wishing that she had paid more attention.

"We're close," Harry said, cocking his head to the howling of the wind like a dog caught on a particularly intriguing scent. "We should stash our brooms here, we'll have to scale this on our own," Harry decided, casting down his broom. Hermione looked at the cliff before her in disbelief. Over the years Hermione had willingly followed Harry into some pretty questionable situations, but this was too much. She drew the line at scaling cliffs. Harry however seemed oblivious to Hermione's disdain of the task before her. He was too focused not on the cliffs but on what the cliffs held.

"You can't be serious," Hermione said shakily as Harry approached the cliff side. "Harry we can't climb _this_." Harry continued his climb, never looking back to Hermione.

"It won't be so bad Hermione," Harry called over his shoulder, already beginning the arduous climb. Hermione was taken back with the sudden harshness to his tone. He sounded so…determined wasn't the word, Hermione decided. She mulled over it a moment more before dismissing it as an effect of the howling wind.

"But—_no_—I mean—_Ron_!" Hermione stumbled, finally appealing to Ron for help. It was a last ditch attempt to free herself from the grueling task ahead of her, but from the look on Ron's face, it wasn't going to work. He merely shrugged as if to say _what-can-you-do_, and slowly rolled up his robes.

"Harry's right—with the winds there's no way we'd be able to stay on our brooms long enough to reach the top. This way, at least we'll have the caves of the cliff for shelter." At Hermione's panic-stricken face, Ron melted. She looked so…vulnerable, and Ron wanted more than anything to wrap her in his arms and—

_Get a grip on yourself!_ Ron scolded himself sharply as Hermione took a hesitant step towards the cliffs. She reached up, gripping a sharp crag as if testing her weight against it. Deciding it was safe, she pulled herself up and with a sigh of defeat, continued up after Harry. Ron tensed, watching her climb the dangerous precipice cautiously. Ron wished he could hold Hermione tightly and rescue her from all of her fears. He wanted to feel her warm body against his, delighting in her electric touch, her lips on his like they had been earlier. Was it really only a few hours ago? Ron wondered vaguely. It had seemed like a lifetime ago, even though the resulting fight still burned vividly in his mind.

"Harry wait!" Hermione called out, clamoring to catch up with Harry who was now only a short length ahead of her. He paused, barely glancing at her hastily-approaching form before settling into the cliff, his feet finding a small ledge to rest on. Hermione was at his side in moments, her breath coming in short gasps as she struggled for breathy. She looked at Harry, sweat painting her face despite the chill in the air. "How much longer is it? From the top of the cliff I mean," Hermione asked breathlessly. Harry looked at her as if she were annoying him.

"Not far," Harry snapped shortly. Hermione looked up, surprised by the bite in his tone. _Why is he so angry? _Hermione asked herself, reaching out for Harry's shoulder.

"What's wrong?" She asked, keenly aware of how quickly Harry shied away from her touch. "Harry?" Hermione pressed, her voice nearly lost in the howling winds. Harry looked suddenly at Hermione, causing her to draw back in fright. The last thing she saw was the manic gleam in his eyes before he reached out, pushing Hermione from her perch, sending her plummeting to the jagged expanse below.


	10. The Truth Comes Out

Disclaimer: I don't own anything!

Chapter Ten

_I'm going to kill him. _It was Ron's only thought as he cradled Hermione's trembling body against his own. True to his words, Ron had been trailing behind her in case she fell, which was lucky since he barely had time to think before she had come hurtling towards him. Ron had reached out immediately, catching Hermione in midair. The force of impact however had sent them both sprawling down a few feet before they steadied themselves shakily on a protruding ledge. Still entangled in eachother's arms, the two had half-crawled and half-dragged one another until they were both pressed safely into a small cave on the cliff, shielded from the harsh winds.

"What the hell happened?" Ron demanded, slowly gaining consciousness about the scene that had just materialized before his eyes. Hermione and Harry had been talking and all of a sudden Harry had—_no, _Ron told himself, _Harry wouldn't do something like that. _Hermione, still shaken from her recent exchange with Harry burrowed into Ron's warm robes, reveling in the security of his tight embrace.

"I don't know what happened—we were just talking!" Hermione sobbed, suddenly finding her voice. Ron's heart reached out to her—he had never seen her more frightened. She still trembled beneath his grasp, a grasp he had no intention of loosening any time soon. When she was so close, Ron could feel the violent beating of her heart, like the wings of a hummingbird, brushing against his chest.

"Shhh, Hermione's its okay," Ron whispered comfortingly, smoothing down Hermione's hair. She looked up at him, fat tear coating her chalk-white face.

"Oh Ron, I was so scared," she mumbled miserably. She had calmed considerably but he could still feel the rhythmic pounding of her heart against his chest. When she was so close to him Ron could smell her shampoo, the familiar smell of her robes, her warm breath lightly gracing his neck like a feather. Ron could barely resist catching her lips in his own, as they had only hours before. _She nearly died and all you can think about it making out with her? Way to woo a woman Ron, _he chastised himself silently. Still, he could barely contain himself. His insides were turning over as if completely entangled. He almost felt as if he _had _to kiss her before—_before what? _Ron asked himself. _Would I really die if I didn't kiss her? _It almost seemed plausible, Ron decided as his pulse quickened. He had been fighting so hard to maintain his emotions that he hadn't even noticed that Hermione had drawn her head of his robes, turning to stare straight into his eyes. She looked confused, as if trying to decipher his emotions. Then, as if caught in slow motion, Hermione leaned forward, catching Ron's lips in a very welcome thank you.

* * *

The kiss lasted seconds, but when they pulled apart it took both Ron and Hermione a minute to regain their bearings. Ron looked at Hermione, blinking away his surprise. She stared at him a moment, a gentle smile playing on her face before her features became dark again, a shadowy veil pulling across her visage.

"We should keep our heads clear. That was bad" Hermione chided but Ron couldn't tell if she was talking to him or herself.

"You're right," Ron agreed, albeit he was somewhat hesitant. The last thing he wanted to do was _discourage_ any of Hermione's advances. Still, he wanted to appear too eager.

"Right," Hermione added after a moment as if trying to convince herself. She exhaled slowly, gathering her bearings, gently tucking a strand of unruly hair behind her ear. "We need to figure out what's wrong with Harry." Ron nodded, returning to his former plan of murdering the git. After a minute, Ron decided to rethink his plan, putting his plot temporarily on hold until he actually knew the whole story. After all, maybe all he needed was a sound thrashing.

"Maybe it was an accident," Hermione suggested but even she sounded skeptical of the idea.

"No way Hermione—stop excusing it," Ron objected loudly. "That was no accident. He deliberately pushed you. Plus, he wouldn't have kept climbing if it were an accident. He never even looked back." Hermione glanced up and sure enough, Harry's cloaked form had disappeared from the cliff side. Hermione's mouth fell into a little "o" of surprise. She had half-expected Harry to be clamoring down to the landing where she and Ron had taken refuge. "You don't think—you don't think he's under the Imperius curse do you? I mean, that's loads better than suddenly deciding to push your best friend off a cliff." Ron suggested. Hermione bit her lip. Ron's idea _did _sound plausible, but—_but what? _Hermione asked herself. _It was his eyes, _Hermione thought suddenly, _that look in his eyes was just too…unnatural. I've never seen anything like it before. It couldn't have been Harry. It was…evil. "_Hermione? Do you think it was the imperious curse?" Ron repeated gently, staring into Hermione's eyes. She had a faraway look to her face, as if she had become lost in thought. Ron reached out, taking Hermione's arm in his and ultimately knocking her from her trance. "So, we've decided on Imperious then?" Ron pressed. Hermione looked at him blankly, shaking her head.

"I don't know what's wrong with Harry, or where he is, but I do know that the man up there was not Harry."

* * *

"Where do we go from here?" Hermione looked around, smoothing out her robes and wiping the mud from her hands. She didn't know what she had expected to find at the top of the cliff, but this wasn't it/ Stretching out before them was a heavily wooded forest, thick with tall, dark trees that stretched back as far as Hermione could see. She sighed heavily, already exhausted from the climb.

"Well, we either go above it or through it and seeing as our brooms are stowed down there, I'd say we only have one choice." Ron blanched visibly but gritted his teeth. He did _not _want to appear scared now, especially when Hermione looked so determined.

"W-what if there are spiders in there?" Ron stuttered before he could stop himself.

"I'm sure there are. Big ones—probably big enough to eat you whole," Hermione remarked dryly, but when Ron turned towards her, horror written across his features, he found that she was smiling. He broke into a grin of relief. Hermione blushed slightly, brushing her hair back once more. "Sorry," she said with a guilty smile, "I couldn't resist." Ron laughed, casually slipping an arm around her waist. Ron had thought for hours—long before her fall—about how to orchestrate a move like that. Still, he found himself wishing he had just forgotten it when Hermione stiffened visibly and pulled away.

"Ron, no," she said, her voice void of any of its former playfulness. "We have more important things to worry about." Ron was hurt and suddenly felt guilty. _Relax, it isn't like you're a sexual pervert—she was leading you on and it was just an arm! It wasn't like you tried to get her to strip down! _Ron rationalized.

"Why can't we?" He found himself asking in a sudden burst of boldness. Hermione was taken back at his question.

"What—what do you mean? We have much more important things to figure out right now! I can't have you pawing all over me when there could be an evil force—,"

"Me? Pawing all over you? God Hermione, all I did was put my arm around you—it's not like I tried to shag you right here and now! You were the one who threw yourself at _me_ down there!" Ron bellowed incredulously.

"I threw myself at _you_?" Hermione shot back hotly, "I would never! It was a moment of weakness! I was _thanking _you!" Ron scoffed.

"Well I never saw you thank McGonagall like that when she gives you a good score or house points!" Hermione rolled her eyes.

"McGonagall'sscores or pointshave never saved my _life_! Besides—you, well, I know you don't really _mean_ it!" Ron stared at Hermione as if she had started speaking in a different language.

"What do you mean, I don't mean it? Of course I do! I love you! I want to be with you all the time! I _have _to be with you or else I go insane!" Ron exaggerated, smacking his forehead in frustration. Hermione ignored the wetness around her eyes, plowing on relentlessly.

"Ron you can't love me like that! Don't be ridiculous, that kind of love doesn't exist. That love is _fake_, don't you get it?" Ron stared at her blankly.

"Fake? What are you talking about? None of this is fake—,"

"Ron don't be so daft! These things that you're feeling aren't real—they can't be! Its lust—pure, unbridled lust! It's all bottled, brewed, whatever you want to call it—_it isn't real_!" Ron was practically shaking with annoyance.

"Have you gone completely bonkers, Hermione? What are you talking about?" He roared over Hermione's rant. She sighed, venting her own frustrations.

"It's a _potion _Ron, a bloody potion! You're not in love with me; you're in lust with me or whatever you want to call it. The point is, it's all fake and it's tearing me apart." With a tiny sob of defeat, Hermione turned away from an awestruck Ron and began advancing towards the forest.


	11. Confrontations and Revelations

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Chapter Eleven

"You incorrigible, puny, writhing, slithering half-wit! How can you call yourself a Malfoy? You are not even fit to associate yourself with the Pettigrew lineage!"

Draco cringed under the latest attack. For three straight days now Lucius had been screaming, seemingly nonstop, over the idiocy of his only son. Every now and then Narcissa would poke her head in, punctuating Lucius' rant with her meek pleas for him to sit down and eat. Lucius, for his part, cast away all the food that Narcissa offered as if it were poison. Draco however felt no shame in accepting whatever his mother offered, grateful for whatever he could manage. He had been on the receiving end of his father's wrath many times before and knew the benefit of maintaining his strength, not to mention his spirit. There was no telling when Lucius, in a burst of rage, would suddenly reach for his wand, firing off curses with reckless abandon. Glancing around the study it was clear that this had already been done; books lay scattered haphazardly around the room and the chair that Draco now occupied still smoldered from Lucius' latest harangue.

"Father, please let me explain! How was I to know that the vial of blood needed to be _pure_? Perhaps if you had disclosed the intention of the ingredient I may have been more careful when I went to collect it!" Although inwardly he was shaking, Draco's tone was firm and steady as he faced his father. It was well known that to Lucius, cowardliness was like an unforgivable curse, a sign of weakness that was completely intolerable. For a moment Lucius stopped yelling, his mouth snapping shut as if manipulated by some unseen force. His pallid visage darkened and when he spoke his voice was low and deadly.

"Are you so incompetent that I have to clarify my _every _intention with you?" Lucius hissed startling Draco back into his seat. Draco was about to protest but Lucius was quick to clip him off. "Are you so inept that I have to explain _every single thing_ to you? I asked you for one thing and you could not even deliver me that!" Draco stood, his knees quivering with fear, his mouth set in anger.

"I tried! You don't understand how hard I tried!" Draco argued.

"You obviously didn't try hard _enough _you insolent brat!" Lucius snapped, whipping a neatly gloved hand across Draco's stunned face. It took only a moment for him to recover from the sting and when he did his own voice had assumed a note of malice and accusation.

"I followed her around for _weeks _and I made a fool of myself! I tried to nick her every chance I could! I went to the bloody Quidditch matches in hopes that a bludger would come into the stands and hit her! I even asked Professor Snape to make me her _lab _partner so I might have the chance to hurt her? Do you know how ridiculous I must have looked? Do you know how much I suffered for this? For _you_! Don't you dare accuse me of not trying!"

"Well you didn't try very hard now did you? You managed to get a nice full vial somehow—don't lie to me boy! You wimped out on the job!"

"You asked for _blood_! How the bloody hell was I supposed to get Granger's _blood_? I couldn't very well walk up to her and ask for it, so I got creative! I got Pansy to donate on Granger's behalf—not that _that _was easy by the way! Besides, I got you _some _of what you asked for, it wasn't as if I tried to deceive you so much!" Lucius let his hand fly again but this time Draco barely flinched.

"_Some_? _SOME_? I didn't ask you for _some _of Granger's blood, I asked you for a _vial _of it! It was one fourth of an ounce you dim-witted imbecile!"

"It was _mostly _her blood! What big difference does it make anyway?" Lucius sighed heavily as if Draco was an idiot.

"What _difference _does it make? What _difference _does it make? You're just damn lucky that it was Granger he saw before Pansy or else _you _would have made a blood offering and mark my words it would _not _have been voluntarily!" Lucius bellowed incredulously. He stared at Draco, narrowing his eyes furiously. "The _difference _is that the potion is _useless_! Without Granger's blood—and _only _Granger's blood (he cast an accusing eye towards Draco who, for his credit, stood his ground)—the potion is not a _love _potion but a _lust _potion. It just enhances natural feelings, so unless Weasley had already been willing to _die_ for Miss Granger he will be no more torn when she rejects his advances than he would have been if she had rejected him in sane mind!" Lucius watched his son for a reaction and was surprised when instead of shame powdering his expression it was interest.

"What if he was?" Draco asked suddenly, startling his father into silence. Lucius gaped at his son, wondering what exactly could be going through his very thick skull.

"What do you mean? Speak clearly for once!" Lucius demanded, somewhat shakily. Draco's sudden interest was disarming and Lucius couldn't help speculating what he was up to. Draco took a breath.

"I meant what if Weasley _was _willing to die for Granger before you slipped him the potion?" Despite all his efforts, Lucius was intrigued.

"What do you mean?"

"Ever since first year it's been blatantly obvious that the weasel is mad for the girl. I'd be willing to bet that he already _was _willing to die for her." Lucius reached out, gripping Draco by the shoulders.

"Are you sure?" He demanded to know. If what he said was true, then the potion had a chance at working. It might even be able to reach the point to which Weasley would be physically ripped apart in his affections for Granger. Unless of course—_no—_Lucius thought, pushing away the doubt. _There's no way that Granger feels the same way for Weasley. It's unthinkable. _Lucius looked back towards his son who eyes were now glimmering conspiratorially.

"I'm positive. Weasel's feelings are hardly a secret. He's been following Grange around like a whipped puppy every since he saw her at the Yule Ball. It's sickening really," Draco speculated, a gloat falling over his tone. Lucius looked at his son, a smirk falling across his colorless features. All the resentment he had felt for Draco faded away as the situation suddenly seemed much brighter than it had in a while.

From a far corner of the study, Narcissa sat, watching the exchange between the two men. They were both so stubborn, so full of anger. A shudder ran the course of her spine, sending shivers through her system. _It's amazing, _she thought with a pang of misery, _how alike they have come to be. _In a heartbeat she knew that her son had stepped in the shoes of his father.


	12. Musings in the Wood

Disclaimer: I don't own anything!

Chapter Twelve

Hermione sighed, sinking down to the ground for the umpteenth time in days. Time had lost all meaning; days blending into nights which blended into days once more. The dense foliage of the forest made it impossible to tell how much time had passed, be it hours or days or even weeks. Crumpling up against the gnarled oak, Hermione let out a sigh that, if you didn't know her, may have been mistaken as a tired sob.

"Useless!" She moaned to herself, glancing up towards the dark canopy of trees. She hoped that she might be able to catch sight of a star or two, or maybe a silver sliver of moon, but, as always, all evidence of the outside world was exactly that; on the outside. A minute or two after Hermione had sat down, Ron came tumbling through the trees, his breath panicked and ragged. He continued forward as if preparing to move forward but stopped suddenly when he saw Hermione. Almost immediately his breathing relaxed and a subtle tranquility settled over his weary features. With a final intake of breath, Ron managed to settle himself down, gently easing himself down, straight across from Hermione.

"Tired." He said but Hermione was unsure if he meant it as a question or a statement. _Either way it's dead on_, she decided, slumping back against the tree. Ever since the confrontation at the beginning of the forest (_for distance_, Hermione thought, _is really the only way we have to measure our progress_) Ron had barely said two words to her. It was as if he were afraid, of what Hermione couldn't imagine (_although it better not be about the bloody spiders I told him were in the forest_), but she assumed it had to do with the potion. _Does it hurt, _Hermione wondered, _is it tearing him apart_? All of the studies she had done seemed to lean in that general direction as far as the symptoms went. _Will he die_? It was the one thought that Hermione had forbidden herself to think, but now, as miles of exploration slowly took their toll on her body, Hermione felt powerless to stop her brain from pondering the theory. If it _was _the Amortentia potion (which, as far as Hermione could tell, he had exhibited most of the symptoms for) then death was definitely a possibility. Especially if blood had been used. Hermione shuddered at the thought, wracking her brain for all of the times she had bled recently. As it wasn't a usual occurrence it should have been an easy fact to recall, but given the fact that the weariness had shifted from Hermione's bones to her head and soon all logical thought was a challenge.

"Cold?" Hermione's eyes flicked open (albeit somewhat hesitantly) and immediately focused in on Ron's outstretched arm. He was holding out his cloak to her, his eyes urging her to take it. Up until that moment, Hermione hadn't even realized how hard she was shivering. She was just about to argue, figuring that Ron was probably chilly too, but decided against it. She knew that the cloak would come to be draped around her shoulders eventually—there was no reason to slow down the inevitable. It had become a habit of some kind—Hermione would go to bed shivering and wake up wrapped in Ron's cloak. The first couple times Hermione had woken up she had thought that it was Ron himself; the warmth from the tightly-wrapped cloth and the faint smell of pumpkins and wool. It was so comforting that when Hermione realized it was only his cloak wrapped around her and not his arms she actually felt a pang of sadness. _Don't be silly, _Hermione had chided herself, angry that she had gotten so worked up, _just because he's under the influence of a potion doesn't mean you should take advantage! _

"Are you hungry?" Hermione was blinked tiredly and nodded mutely as Ron handed her a cold biscuit. Whereas Hermione had spent time organizing important things that they would need for the journey like ropes and quills, inks, a compass, maps and all sort of other technical things, Ron had been far more practical. He had not only thought to pack extra socks ("Mum always says keeping your feet warm is the most important thing—well, besides staying safe and alive of course") but food as well, a fact that Hermione was grateful for every night when he portioned off the provisions.

"Thanks," Hermione said gratefully, biting into the dry biscuit. She made a face but made no comment, knowing that this was far better than what she had provided. For a minute, the two ate in silence. Finally, Ron spoke.

"Hermione—what are we doing?" Hermione stared at him, her eyes wide. _What does he mean? Is he talking about our relationship? Do we even have a relationship? What does he expect from me? Does he really think I'm going to discuss this here—now? What is he thinking? _

"Ron, I don't know how many times I can say this—we can't date, at least, not now," Hermione said firmly, sitting up and staring straight at him. The only thing was, instead of looking crushed like she had expected, Ron was actually—_smiling. _Even in the darkness Hermione could see a flush rising to his cheeks as if—_oh no, _Hermione thought, suddenly mortified. _He didn't mean—_

"I was actually talking about this search that we're on—the whole looking for Harry deal," Ron said, clearly trying not to burst into a fit of laughter. Now it was Hermione's time to blush, furious at herself for her presumptuousness.

"Oh—the search, that's right, that's what I meant," Hermione said quickly, but the damage had already been done. Ron was beaming.

"_I _wanted to talk about Harry but if you _really _want to talk about our relationship—or lack thereof—I would be _perfectly_ fine with that," he said emphatically. Hermione's face flamed.

"Oh, don't tease me like that! You know I only meant—,"

"—that you're madly in love with me and can't wait until we cure this love spell so we can finally be together?" Ron finished for her. For a minute the two stared at eachother in silence. Ever since Hermione had told him the details of his infirmity the subject had been somewhat taboo; neither daring to broach the subject. Now that Ron had acknowledged it though—and so playfully to boot—Hermione felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She was once again free to speak to Ron—and not only about the potion but other things as well. Up until that point, Hermione hadn't realized how much she missed her discussions with Ron, whether they were arguing over schoolwork, chatting about Quidditch (_I really must be in love with him if I missed talking about that_) or trying to figure out some prophecy of some kind that would release them all from peril.

"_No,_" Hermione said pointedly, but with a gentle smile on her face. "I _do _think that you're right though (Hermione ignored Ron's raised eyebrows), I think we should figure out what we're doing about this," Hermione gestured towards the expanse of foliage stretching around them, "I mean, we can't just roam around the woods until we run out of food."

"—or into giant spiders that will eat us alive," Ron inserted. Hermione nodded, acknowledging this possibility, which made Ron blanch suddenly.

"Anyway, what I'm saying is we can't just keep wandering around blindly—we need a plan. I think that we should head back in the morning (whenever _that _happens to be) and regroup. We can think of a strategy, maybe even get help. I bet McGonagall is going crazy with us missing—she knows the types of situations we tend to get ourselves into and I bet she will be none too pleased with this latest one." Ron nodded in agreement, cringing at McGonagall's reaction. He didn't know exactly what it was, but he knew it wouldn't be pleasant.

"You're right—we can't keep going like we are. I mean, we walk around with no direction, barely any time to rest, absolutely _no _snogging—I definitely propose a change in plans."

"Ron!" Hermione shouted, her cheeks flaming again. "Can you focus for once?" He laughed, nodding his head.

"Okay, okay, I understand. I agree with you though, in all seriousness. We should head back, gather our wits together and think of a solid plan." Hermione nodded in agreement, pleased that they had put together a plan. Ron stared at Hermione, a playful smile flitting across his eyes. "In the meantime however, I think that it's freezing out here and you have all the blankets." Hermione looked at her lap where she had wasted no time in draping Ron's cloak over her legs. She was mortified and began handing it back, but Ron stopped her quickly.

"But—," she started to say but was cut off by Ron.

"Don't worry; it's big enough for the both of us." He scooted over, grabbing a corner of the robe for himself. They weren't touching, but they were close enough so that Hermione's entire body felt as if it were suddenly alive with electricity. Leaning back, Hermione finally felt comfortable enough to drift off to sleep. Just as she was on the brink of a nap though, she felt Ron rustling beside her.

"Hermione?" He whispered, his voice nearly silent in the darkness.

"What?" She asked, keenly aware of how close his body was to hers. He had leaned in close so that his chest was pressed into her arm. She smiled, realizing that in this position she could feel his heart, thumping wildly against her skin.

"You were just joking about the whole man-eating spider thing, right?"


	13. Deeper into the Woods

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

A/N: I want to apologize for the delay upon posting this. Earlier in the week I wrote this out and then I promptly lost it. So I spent a good part of the week searching for it and then the rest of the week lamenting the lost work. Anyway, once I got over it, I decided to update anyway. Sorry again for the delay.

Chapter Thirteen

_I'm suffocating!_

At least, that's what Hermione thought as she woke up the next morning, gasping for air. She struggled to sit up, her arms flailing beneath her robes and almost immediately the sensation disappeared as cool air flooded her lungs. Glancing around, Hermione realized she hadn't been suffocating at all, but rather had been stuck beneath Ron's heavy arm. She couldn't tell if he had shifted in the night or if they both had, but she was keenly aware that they were much closer to eachother than they had been when they had fallen asleep the night before.

"What—what's going on?" Ron asked tiredly, roused by the sudden force at which Hermione had shoved his arm off of her chest.

"Nothing—I was just getting up," Hermione said quickly, fighting off the urge to grab Ron and kiss him in all of his ruffled, yawning glory. He just looked so cute; his unruly hair poking up all around his face, his cheeks ruddy from sleep and his eyes blinking tiredly. He just looked so—_my god Hermione, get a grip on yourself! Nothing is going to get done with you slobbering all over Ron every day! You need to stop thinking with your hormones and start thinking with your head!_ Hermione reprimanded herself silently.

"Oh bloody hell, my back is _killing _me. I think I slept on a bloody rock all night!" Ron moaned, rising to his feet. Hermione couldn't help smiling at the way his clothes were twisted all around his body, evidence of his restless night.

"We should start back to Hogwarts as soon as we can—we don't want to wait any longer than we absolutely have to—Harry could be in serious danger," Hermione said, abruptly changing the subject. Ron nodded in agreement, immediately snapping awake. He glanced over towards Hermione who was brushing the dust and pine needles from her robe. Her hair was matted down into a hundred tangles and one of her cheeks had the faint outline of her wand (which Ron assumed she had accidentally slept on), but she still looked stunning. He couldn't believe he had spent the entire night just a few inches away from her. I was just a few inches away from her crazy hair, her beautiful eyes and her soft lips, Ron thought, a smile playing over his own lips. _Harry would die if I told him about our kiss—he's been rooting for me to make a move ever since I told him about my feelings for Hermione. _At the thought of Harry, Ron felt a pang of sadness. His best friend was god knows where, and all he could focus on was Hermione's lips, her smell and the way her body had felt against his. _I'm a bloody awful best friend, _Ron thought bitterly, rubbing the final bit of sleep from his eyes. Hermione had already picked up their makeshift campground and looked ready to go.

"I think as soon as we get back to our brooms one of us should head to Hogwarts and one of us should go straight to the ministry. That way we can have the help of the Hogwarts staff _and _the Aurors." Hermione mused sagely. Ron nodded in agreement, hastily tossing his dirty robe over his shoulders. He didn't bother dusting anything off of it as Hermione had so he resembled somewhat of a forest animal, covered in pine needles, dirt and various foliage from surrounding plants. Hermione glanced at him, stifling a giggle.

"You look absolutely ridiculous," she snickered and watched as Ron's face became rosy with embarrassment.

"Well you don't look too good yourself—you're hair looks like a gnome's nest." He pointed out defiantly and watched as Hermione's hand flew involuntarily to her hair. For a second she thought about discussing the fact that gnome's _rarely _lived in nests anymore and if they _did, _they were not known for being particularly messy creatures, but at the last minute she decided against it. Instead, her fingers picked over the knots, trying in vain to smooth them out. It was useless, a task that she would have to ask Lavender to help her with upon her return to Hogwarts.

"Well this certainly isn't getting us anywhere—instead of picking at my appearance, why don't we do something _productive _for a change and start going back," Hermione snapped, giving up on her hair. Ron shrugged and watched with a bemused smile as Hermione stormed off into the forest.

"_Ouch_—oh bloody hell," Hermione snapped bitterly as a twig reached out, catching on her robes and scraping against her exposed skin. It had been happening quite often and was beginning to grate against Hermione's already-worn-down nerves. "This didn't happen when we were coming _in _to this blasted forest!" She brushed at the thin line of blood rising up from her pale skin. Ron reached out, trying to soothe her nerves.

"Calm down Hermione—you aren't going to help anyone if you can't cool down enough to concentrate." Ron said quietly. _How can I 'calm down' when I can't even think straight! _Hermione asked herself furious at her own odd behavior. Ever since their last kiss Hermione couldn't seem to keep Ron out of her head. As hard as she tried to focus on the seriousness of the situation her thoughts kept returning to Ron's smell and his lips and the way it had felt to wake up next to him.

"I _am _calm," Hermione snarled with more vehemence than she felt. She wasn't really angry, but frustrated at herself and the situation at hand. Ron put a comforting hand on her shoulder, not put off in the least at Hermione's harshness. He knew how she got when she couldn't figure something out.

"Fine, just try and focus on the task at hand. First things first; we need to get out of this forest for one. We'll handle the rest when we get to it." Ron said sensibly. Hermione massaged her temples, trying to clear her head. It was near impossible with Ron so close at hand. The place where his hand rested on her shoulder burned fiercely, as if her whole body was on fire. He smelled wonderful too, like pine and woods and adventure—_Oh Lord Hermione, get a grip on yourself. Now you aren't even making any sense! He smells like adventure? What does that even mean? You are acting ridiculous! If you're so distracted by him why don't you just eliminate the problem? Why don't you just—_

"Oomph!" Ron exhaled loudly as Hermione grabbed him suddenly, pulling him towards her. She gripped the front of his robes so tightly that it was impossible for him to pull away—not that he was making much of an attempt. On the contrary, he was just as much into it as she was and made no effort to stop her advances. Hermione held onto him tightly, her mouth on his as fireworks went off inside her body. She felt as if a thousand chemical explosions were reacting and going off where Ron was pressed into her. For his part, Ron held onto Hermione tightly, his hands gripping her waist as if he were afraid she would suddenly come to her senses and pull away. Hermione however showed no signs of regret at her actions. Her hands moved from his robes up to his neck where she proceeded to toy with his hair. Ron's scalp tingled at her touch, embracing Hermione's bold touch.

"Oh my god," Hermione mumbled breathily after a few minutes. Her breath was coming in heavily and almost desperately, reeling from her actions. She and Ron had embraced each other with a fierce hunger, as if both had been longing for the other's touch for a while, and now Hermione was beginning to feel the toll of it. Still, she wasn't going to lose her focus.

"I know," Ron mumbled distractedly, reluctant to break the moment. He leaned in to catch Hermione's lips on his own once more and was surprised when Hermione held up her hands, pushing him away.

"No, no—not the kissing. Look," Hermione said, staring out past Ron's shoulder. He looked over his shoulder slowly, unwillingly turning away from Hermione.

"What, pray tell am I supposed to be looking at?" Ron asked in annoyance. _Whatever she saw better be pretty damn good, _Ron thought, slightly perturbed at the interruption.

"Look," Hermione instructed him, pointing towards a particularly dense part of the forest. For a minute all Ron saw was darkness, but then there was a sudden flicker of green light. Ron blinked, wondering whether or not he had actually seen something or if his eyes were playing tricks on him. Suddenly there was another flicker, this time longer and more distinct. There was _definitely _something there; there was no denying it now.

"Do you think that's—," Ron began but was cut off quickly by Hermione's nods.

"Yeah, that's Harry. I'd bet my life on it."

"Hermione—wait! You don't even know what you're running towards! Whatever got Harry could just as easily get you!" Ron cried, racing after Hermione. It was useless though as Hermione was far too distracted by following the light than listening to Ron.

"Come _on_!" She called over her shoulder, urging Ron to keep the pace with her. He sighed, trailing after his as best he could. His shins were suffering major scratches and he had stubbed his toe on more roots than he could count, but at the moment, all he cared about was catching up to Hermione.

"Hermione—_stop_!" Ron demanded with so much authority that Hermione stopped dead in her tracks. She spun around, narrowly avoiding colliding with Ron who was caught off guard by her sudden pause.

"_What_?" Hermione demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. Her breath was labored and game in heavy gasps but she didn't seem to notice. "Ron, don't you realize that we could be this close (She held up her fingers to indicate the proximity) to rescuing Harry? We can't keep slowing down!"

"_Keep slowing down_? Hermione, we haven't slowed down since you saw that blasted light! If you keep going at this pace then by the time we _do _get to Harry and whoever has him, we'll be too exhausted to fight! You need to take a break—_we _need to take a break." Hermione crossed her arms and stared at Ron skeptically.

"Snogging won't help us 'preserve any energy' either Ron. We need to focus if we're going to get this done." Ron tossed his arms skyward, feeling increasingly frustrated.

"Hermione I wasn't suggesting we _snog_. I was saying that we shouldn't sprint towards the light—or whatever it is. We need to take this easy and plan something out before busting in on whatever it turns out to be." Hermione eyed him cautiously, the weight of his words sinking in.

"We never plan these things in advance. We _always _dive into these things blindly and they always turn out fine," Hermione said ignorantly.

"And afterwards we _always _say how we're going to do things right next time because we _always _end up hurt or in the infirmary or with someone's death on our hands." Hermione shrugged reluctantly.

"I guess you're right, but look at that—the light is _so _close! Let's go!" Hermione said enthusiastically, rushing towards the new direction of the light. Ron slapped his forehead in disbelief.

"Bloody hell there is _no _reasoning with that woman," Ron mumbled to himself before rushing after Hermione's fleeting form.

"What the—?"

"Shhh!" Hermione hissed as Ron tumbled over her crouching form. He had been following her when suddenly she had disappeared. After a few minutes of searching it appeared as though he had finally caught up with her—crouching low next to an overgrown bush.

"What the hell are you doing down here?" Ron asked, nursing the bruise on his shin as Hermione motioned for him to be quiet.

"Look—it's Harry. Or at least, one of them is." Before Ron could ask what she meant by that he caught sight of where Hermione was pointing. What he saw made him reel back in shock. Sitting in the clearing where the green light was emanating from were two distinct forms. Both were tall and slightly gangly, with a mass of dark hair. Both were hunched over, staring into the fire. Both had slightly crooked glasses and an off-center scar gracing both of their foreheads. There was no denying it; both were unmistakably Harry.

"So—what do we do now? There's no telling which one is the real Harry." Ron said at a loss for any real thought.

"Remember when Harry—I mean, the imposter—pushed me from that cliff? I knew it wasn't Harry because of the eyes. The eyes were completely different. They were—_evil_. All we need to know is in the face."

"And how do you suggest that we figure that out? Just jump out and surprise them? Because who knows who else could be lurking around the campsite. This whole setup itself could be a prank to get us all together here." Ron said, climbing to his feet. Hermione rolled her eyes although whether or not Ron could see that in the darkness was unknown.

"Don't be so daft Ron, look at Harry! The _real _Harry. He's right there! He would help us. Plus, do you think he would have lured us in with those green flashes if it was dangerous?" Hermione reasoned. Ron stared at her in disbelief. Why was she being so ignorant of the situation he wondered.

"Hermione—who knows if Harry was the one who was sending out the light? It could easily be a plot to lure us in here completely unprepared. And don't you think that if Harry was capable of helping us he would have done something already? He probably doesn't even have his wand with him!" Hermione sighed, fighting off the urge to pull Ron close to her once more. His arm was touching hers and it was almost too much to bear—_Get a grip on yourself! You need to focus, _Hermione scolded inwardly. She stared into the clearing once more, staring at the two Harry's.

"I think you're wrong. We should just run in there and get Harry. He needs us." Ron slapped his forehead, realizing that Hermione really wasn't listening to a word of reason. He was about to say something else when a sudden shiver stopped him. It raced up his spine, sending all the hairs on his neck on end. He shuddered. Apparently Hermione had felt it too because she shifted in the leaves. She opened her mouth but no sound came out. Instead, the sound came from behind, a sneering voice full of cunning.

"Oh come now Granger, I thought _you _were the smart one of the bunch. I guess things change though now, don't they? Much like Weasley's little love potion seems to have changed hands." The voice taunted. For a minute everything was silent as Hermione let the words sink in. Then, as realization hit, she felt something in her stomach lurch sickeningly.

"Oh my god," she whispered as the speaker grasped her roughly, dragging her out of hiding.


	14. The Face Off

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Chapter Fourteen

Lucius sneered at the two kids in his grasp and pulled them forward, towards the fire. They didn't come easy, that was for damn sure—especially the Granger girl, who continued to kick like a mule—but Lucius' grasp was strong and he had no intention of letting them go.

"Get _off _of me!" Hermione snarled angrily, trying to rip her arm from Lucius' fingers. He only dug his nails deeper into her skin, causing Hermione to writhe under his grasp. Well he certainly was _strong_; she had to give him that. "You won't get away with this!" She snapped, this time with less ferocity. He merely laughed, dragging her along with him. In the other hand he clung to Ron's arm, although Ron was proving much less troublesome than Hermione.

"Oh really?" Lucius asked, genuinely interested in her logic. "And just how do you intend to get out of this one, may I ask? I know Dumbledore isn't here to save you, McGonagall doesn't have a clue as to where you are and as I recall, _you _are stricken with some type of malady, am I correct? Pray tell, how _do _you intend on getting out of this one?" Hermione scoffed although when he said it like _that _the situation sure didn't sound too promising.

"We've defeated Voldemort before—without Dumbledore or McGonagall or anyone else." Hermione grumbled despite the fact that the situation appeared pretty dismal. She tripped slightly over a tree branch. Lucius kept his grip strong on her arm, yanking her back to her feet.

"That was dumb luck—and mostly _Potter's _dumb luck I may add, and from the looks of it, he isn't here to save you two," Lucius drawled in an aggravated tone. Ron and Hermione looked around sharply, realizing that Harry _wasn't _around. _He was just here, _Hermione thought in surprise, glancing around the campsite. It wasn't just Harry that had disappeared though—the entire campground had vanished. The fire that Ron and Hermione had observed, the two Harry's hunched over; facing the flames, even the tent that had been near-deflated had all gone away as if the entire thing had been a mirage. Lucius laughed bitterly at the bewildered expressions of the two teens, pulling them along through the foliage.

"What the bloody hell happened?" Ron asked, despite his resolve to stay silent. He had been trying to form a plan to get Hermione and himself out of their current predicament, but even he was too surprised by the disappearance to contain his outburst. Lucius cast a quick glance towards Ron who until that minute had been the good one—the _silent _one—and sighed in distaste.

"It was a hallucinatory spell," Lucius said simply as if it should have been obvious before. When he still received silence from his two captives, Lucius smirked contentedly. _Finally_, he thought, casting an irritated glance towards Hermione. Hermione however showed no signs of being repressed.

"But that's necromancy," Hermione said finally, her brain spinning in a thousand directions. Lucius shrugged indifferently but Ron looked genuinely confused.

"What do you mean?" He asked as Lucius yanked them both through a narrow clearing of trees. He paused, glancing around as if trying to remember the way, and then continued on at the same pace. Hermione glanced across at Ron who was looking perplexed by her statement.

"Hallucinatory spells were outlawed by the Ministry when Voldemort was in power. They were being used to deceive people into thinking that they were seeing their friends and family betraying them; it was used to turn people against their loved ones. It also led to insanity, parents believing their own kids had turned against them and that type of thing. There had even been arguments to make it one of the unforgivable curses due to its horrific repercussions." Hermione explained. Lucius listened to her spiel, waiting until she had finished to add his piece.

"Well, well Granger, aren't you well read in such subjects?" He sneered. "Although apparently you are not so familiar with them so as to avoid them." Hermione fumed silently, looked away from his leering expression. The trio lapsed into an uncomfortable silence as they continued to trudge through the woods. Finally, Hermione heaved an exasperated groan.

"Where are you taking us anyway?" She demanded with renewed vigor after she realized that they had passed through the realm of familiarity long ago and now seemed to be wandering aimlessly. Lucius ignored her and continued plowing through the brush at breakneck pace. "Do you even _know_ where you're going?" There was a hint of doubt in Hermione's tone that made Ron nervous. He knew she had been acting out of character lately, but she wouldn't deliberately egg Lucius on—_right_? Ron swallowed thickly, suddenly unsure. Lucius pitched a heavy sigh at Hermione's questions, as if it were a great burden to acknowledge her at all.

"Of course I know where we're going you insolent little brat," Lucius snarled. Then, as if to prove this, he stepped sharply over a log and up to a particularly large oak. A hole had been carved out of the trunk and inside sat a black bag. Ron and Hermione watched nervously as Lucius reached in, plucking out the bag as well as what looked like an old boot. Before either Ron or Hermione could comprehend what was happening, Lucius grabbed both of them and latched on to the boot; sending the three of them hurling through space.

* * *

Hermione and Ron landed in a painful heap on the cold stone floor of what appeared to be a dungeon. As they struggled to disentangle themselves and rise up from the hard stone, both noticed that Lucius had not only landed _much _more gracefully than they had, but also that he was staring intently towards a desk in the corner of the room. _What the bloody hell is going on? _Hermione asked herself, thoroughly confused. The whack her head had received upon landing was pounding furiously and she couldn't seem to fathom the situation. _What is Malfoy going to do with us? Does he plan to kill us? What about Harry? Where is Harry? Have they already killed him? Is he okay? Where are we? _Hermione absently raked her hand through her hair and rubbed her forehead. She could feel an egg-shaped bump rising on her forehead and winced as her fingers brushed over it. Glancing sideways, Hermione noticed Ron who seemed to be nursing his own wounds.

"It's about time." Hermione was surprised to see that even Lucius winced when the icy voice punctured the collective silence of the room. The three arrivals whipped around to the desk in the corner of the room, just in time to see Voldemort turning slowly in the chair. _Could he be any more dramatic? _Hermione wondered briefly, watching cynically as Voldemort slowly turned the chair until he was facing the three of them. An involuntary shiver raced up and down her spine.

Over the past few years Hermione had had many encounters with the dark lord, but never had she seen him up so close and looking so—_whole_. This time it wasn't just a voice or a host body that she was up against—it was the real man. _If you can call him a man,_ Hermione mused to herself. He certainly didn't resemble anyone she had ever seen before. He was completely bald, his head like a bowling ball resting on his twig-like neck. He was so thin that Hermione could make out every bone and vein in his face, flitting awkwardly beneath his chartreuse skin with every movement. His eyes were dark and inky, murky orbs shadowed by his well-defined eyebrows, which were possibly the only bit of hair on his entire face. When he spoke it was soft and raspy, his words catching on eachother as if he couldn't quite spit them out completely. Hermione got the vague image of sandpaper rubbing against lace; the coarse texture catching and aggravating the delicate fabric. She didn't dare smile but she took a small victory in the fact that despite the fact that Voldemort now had a human form, he was in no way complete. His soul had been divided and destroyed so many times that he was no more than a breath of a man, desperately clinging onto a physical form.

"Stop your staring you impertinent imbecile," Voldemort hissed, yanking Hermione from her reveries. She stared boldly back at him, her face drawn up hard and impassive. Ron stared at her, overtaken by her audacity. He himself was practically doubled over in fear and there she was, having a face off with _Voldemort._ And for his part, Voldemort looked genuinely unsettled. His bony hand hovered temptingly over his robes where his wand was stashed, daring himself to curse the girl right then and there. _No, not yet, _he reminded himself, drawing his hand away. He glared at Lucius who had stepped back into a far corner of the room.

"What do you wish me to do, my Lord?" Lucius asked, anticipating the order he was about to receive before Voldemort had the chance to voice it.

"Take them away—throw them in with Potter until we're ready for them," Voldemort relayed briskly, waving his hand. Lucius nodded curtly and stepped up again, grasping Hermione and Ron's arms in his own. They winced in unison, cringing under the biting clutch of Lucius' hands. He yanked them sharply towards the door, bowing slightly to Voldemort before whisking the two down the dark corridor.

* * *

"_Harry_!" Hermione and Ron cried in unison when their eyes adjusted to the diffused lighting of the dungeon cell. They had landed roughly for the second time that morning, adding to their collection of bumps and bruises. It had taken a moment to familiarize themselves with their surroundings, but once they had what they found came as a welcomed surprise.

"Ron, Hermione—I didn't know what happened to you!" Harry yelled loudly, rushing over to Ron and Hermione.

"I was so worried about you two!" Ron and Hermione jumped as another form rose from the shadows. It wasn't just another form either—it was another _Harry. _

"What is going on?" Ron asked loudly, his voice a few octaves higher than normal. His eyes were flicking wildly from one Harry to the next, trying to decipher something—_anything—_that might help him differentiate from his friend and the intruder.

"Don't listen to him—_I'm_ the real Harry," the first one said emphatically, gesturing towards himself. Hermione stepped closer to Ron, clutching his arm. She leaned in close, whispering softly so neither Harry would hear.

"Its part of the hallucinatory spell—one of them is the one from the cliff and one is the real Harry," Hermione explained in rushed whispers. Ron nodded, taking this in.

"How do we tell which is the real Harry and which is the mirage?" He asked in equally hushed tones. There was a pause where Ron was distinctly aware of the penetrating looks from both of the Harry's. Finally, he felt Hermione sigh, her warm breath raising the hairs on the back of Ron's neck.

"We don't," she said simply. "We might be able to tell in the light—because of the eyes—but in the darkness it's nearly impossible. They're perfectly identical." Ron glanced between the two curiously in an attempt to decipher a difference. Finding none, he sighed dejectedly.

"Ron, Hermione—it's _me_, _Harry_," the one closest to Ron said. Ron glanced at him carefully. It sure _looked _like Harry, but then again, so did the other one who was rushing to offer his plea.

"Come on you guys, you have to believe me, we've been friends for _years_, don't tell me you don't know your own _friend_." He regarded Hermione and Ron with disbelief, as if he was shocked that they wouldn't be able to recognize him. Ron took a step back and Hermione moved right along with him. It was no use though; both Harry's advanced along with them.

"You have to know me you guys—you _have _to believe me! It's me—Harry!"

"_I'm _Harry—honestly, I can't believe my own friends don't recognize me!"

"You are _not _the real Harry—_I'm _the real Harry!" Ron leaned back so that his mouth was next to Hermione's ear.

"How are we going to figure out who is who?" He hissed nervously. He had a feeling that if they didn't figure out which one was the real Harry soon they would_ all_ be in trouble.

"I guess we just have to use our best judgment," Hermione supposed fretfully, her eyes darting between the two Harry's.

"Ron—I've spent my summers at the Burrow with you and your family for the past few _years_. I considered you my _brother_. And Hermione—we've been through so much together. You _have _to believe me—I'm the _real _Harry!" The Harry closest to Ron pleaded. Hermione and Ron exchanged nervous glances. The other Harry sighed heavily.

"Listen you guys—you have to understand—I am the real Harry. You have to believe me." Hermione bit her lip, glancing between the two boys. Ron leaned back towards her again.

"Hermione—how are we going to figure this out—?"

"—_Petrificus Totalus_!" Hermione shrieked suddenly, sending a blast of light from her wand hurtling towards the Harry closest to Ron. Ron fell back, stunned.

"What was _that_?" Ron bellowed, still shocked over what Hermione had done. "What did you just _do_?" Hermione herself appeared a little surprised by her actions. Her arm was frozen in the air, poised for action, and her eyes were wide with disbelief.

"I don't know!" Hermione confessed, her voice squeaky and nervous. The Harry that she had attacked was lying frozen on the ground, little murmurs of pain escaping his lips. Ron guessed that it was more from smacking the stone floor head on rather than the actual spell. Still, he didn't have much experience in the latter area, so he couldn't be sure.

"How did you know he was the imposter?" Ron pressed, his voice still loud and disbelieving. Hermione shook her head.

"I didn't know—I had a feeling!" She admitted, waving her arms frantically. Ron's mouth fell open in alarm.

"You just—you just fired off a spell, devil-may-care? You _guessed_?" Hermione held up her hands as if to show how her action was obviously not premeditated.

"I don't know—I had a _feeling _I guess. Call it a woman's intuition," she said meekly, trying to justify her rash action.

"A _feeling_? You had a bloody _feeling_? Hermione—that woman's intuition better be bloody faultless, otherwise you may have just paralyzed our best friend!" Ron yelled, near hysterics. His voice had gone up several octaves and now surpassed Hermione's by several notes. Hermione shrugged.

"I don't know how accurate it is! I just—," Hermione's voice dropped immediately as she noticed something happening to the afflicted-Harry's body. It almost appeared to be—_disappearing. _"Ron—_look,_" Hermione said, pointing to the body. Now there was no doubt about it; even in the dark it was obvious that the body was slowly fading before them, the color ebbing away as the form gradually disintegrated.

"You were right—Hermione you picked the right one," Ron said incredulously, grasping onto Hermione's arm. She watched the body dissolve slowly, still dubious of her own actions. "Oh gods Hermione—you really did it," Ron continued, pulling Hermione into an impromptu embrace, drawing her close. She was so caught off guard that she didn't even fight it when rather than Ron's arms catching her it was his lips, pressed firmly against hers. She inhaled sharply, taking in Ron's scent which now leaned less towards molasses and sweets and more towards sweat and dirt. Still, Hermione found herself unexplainably drawn to it. Her hands moved instinctively to Ron's head as she laced her fingers through his unruly locks. When she felt Ron's own hands come to rest heavily on her waist Hermione couldn't help the flutter in her heart. She was just leaning in, fully immersing herself in the embrace when an awkward cough brought both of them back to their senses. Even in the darkness that the dungeon afforded the discomfort in Harry's voice was apparent.

"Uh, you guys—I'm still here."

* * *

"Get up—all of you—we're ready."

Harry, Ron and Hermione all blinked charily as light from the outside flooded into the dungeon like a tidal wave, catching everything in its destructive grasp. Since the destruction of the false Harry, the trio had been catching up on everything that they had missed out on. Harry had explained his capture—the night that he had shared his qualms regarding Ron's affections—and told of how he had been held ever since. Everything about finding the Horocrux, going on the mission to find them, climbing the cliff—all of it had been with the fake Harry. The _real _Harry had been captured the night that Hermione discovered about Ron's love potion, and had since been kept in the dungeon with little human contact at all. Every so often he said how Lucius or another henchman came in, usually with a cutting remark, but with food nonetheless. As Wormtail had explained on his first—and only—visit was that they didn't want to kill him—not just yet anyway. They wanted to make him suffer, as he had done to them for so many years.

Hermione and Ron for their part described what had been happening in Harry's absence. They told him about the fake Harry coming in with the Horocrux idea and their trek to the cliffs as well as the near-fatal fall ("I'll kill him—I'll kill all of them!" Harry had practically screamed when Hermione had told him about the fall). Hermione had told him all about how the love potion had seemingly worn off of Ron and, in Lucius' words, had "changed hands". Both Hermione and Ron had conveniently left out the parts in which they threw themselves at eachother, but they didn't think they were all _that _relevant. Not to mention the fact that Harry had already been privy to one of those moments and probably guessed that their adventure thus far hadn't been _entirely _pure.

"I said _get up_," Lucius snarled impatiently, leering distastefully as the three stumbled towards the doorway. After days of waiting for the trio to be complete, after hours of creating the perfect plan, finally—_finally_—things were ready to be put into action. "Follow me," Lucius continued, walking promptly down the hallway. The trio followed tepidly, dragging tiredly behind Lucius' timely jaunt.

After a lengthy march up countless stairways and dozens of corridors, the group finally reached what Hermione guessed must have been similar to the astronomy tower at school. It had to be by far one of the tallest towers in the mansion, and although she figured Professor Trelawney wasn't inside, or several student desks for that matter, she had a feeling that it would be somewhat like the classroom. When they entered, she realized that she was right.

The room was large and circular, and like the rest of the mansion, composed entirely of large, gray stone plates. Around the walls, three large openings were cut into the rock, allowing for three panels of luminescent moonlight to stream in, illuminating the space with a chilling glow. Below one of the windows a desk was set up, cleared of all things save for a wand that rested in the center. Surrounding the desk were several cloaked figures, huddled in the shadows, and, as could only be assumed, sitting at the desk in the middle of all of them, was Voldemort himself.

"Finally, the three of us meet again," Voldemort hissed, his eyes flicking from Ron to Hermione until finally he rested them on Harry and Harry alone. "I assume your stay has been pleasant?" His tone was taunting and harsh, but Harry paid him little attention.

"What do you want?" Harry snarled at him with more maturity and audacity than either Hermione or Ron had ever seen. Voldemort himself seemed undaunted by this show of maturity and merely smirked indifferently.

"I think you know what I want Potter." Voldemort spat out coolly, unflinching in his delivery. Hermione watched the give and take with the slight feeling of being in a bad made-for-TV-movie. It was all too surreal, too impossible. Just a few days ago her biggest problem had been whether or not Ron _really _liked her, and now she was facing off—once again—with Voldemort and his motley crew of deatheaters.

"What are you going to do to us?" Hermione asked, genuinely curious. She too was surprised at how bold her tone was. _Maybe we've become immune to him_, Hermione mused silently, _it isn't like we've never come into contact with him over the past few years. I mean, sure he can easily wipe out the three of us with one wave of his hand, but he hasn't succeeded yet. Maybe we're going to be okay_, Hermione thought as Voldemort smiled viciously. Hermione cringed. _Then again, maybe he's just going to kill us now._

"To _you _Miss Granger? I fully intend to leave you and Mr. Weasley completely alone. The love potion will take care of you two in time. Now _Potter _on the other hand, I cannot make the same promise. Potter is mine." Hermione had to admit to her own surprise. Not to mention being genuinely curious about the love potion. _It will take care of me 'in time'? What does that mean? And what is this 'changing hands' business? I don't feel like I'm under a love spell. I feel like I always have for Ron. Granted I've been a little more aggressive and physical with my feelings, but this isn't like the symptoms that I read about in McGonagall's books. What kind of love spell is this? And what is he going to do to Harry? _Hermione's thoughts spread into a thousand different directions and as hard as she tried she couldn't focus on any one of them.

"What do you mean the potion will 'take care of us in time'? What kind of love potion is this?" Ron asked suddenly, and his question mirrored Hermione's own thoughts so perfectly that she wondered briefly if it was _her _asking the questions. Voldemort laughed (maybe _laugh _was too strong a word. Laughter implies joviality and the sound Voldemort made was _anything _but jovial. It was just plain creepy) and leaned back nonchalantly in his chair.

"Lucius," he said finally, an air of casualty in his tone. "It seems that our _guests _(he gestured to the trio) seem to want an explanation about the love potion. As it was really your doing, would you care to clarify the details?" Lucius, who had moved over with the others deatheaters over the course of the confrontation dropped the hood of his cloak and stepped into the moonlight. Under the pallid illumination his face was contorted into what looked like a less intense version of his master. There were a few choice differences; his luminescent hair for one, as well as the color and depth of his own eyes, but other than that, the resemblance was uncanny. Hermione wondered vaguely whether it was like that for all of the deatheaters; over time they had come to mirror their master in ways other than just their minds and ideas.

"Of course my Lord," Lucius accepted respectfully, looking straight at Ron and Hermione as he spoke. "I must admit that my original intention was warped, although it in no way has come to failure. I concocted the potion with the help of my son and distributed it to Mister Weasley on the night that you three were in Hogsmeade. Originally the potion was supposed to drive Weasley mad with temptation at not being able to differentiate between his actual love for Miss Granger and the lust induced by the spell. What I didn't count on was Miss Granger reciprocating the feelings and although that mixed a few things up, it did not ruin the overall effect in the least." Lucius turned to address Hermione.

"You see, when you responded positively to Mister Weasley's feelings, the potion crossed over to you—,"

"Because it was looking for a suitable host!" Hermione cried excitedly, realization suddenly dawning on her. When Ron and Harry exchanged bewildered looks, Hermione rushed to explain. "The whole purpose of a love potion is to drive the host-body mad with desire. When it realized that Ron's affections were returned, it moved on to me, in the hopes that Ron wouldn't return _my _feelings. That way it can serve its purpose."

"Exactly," Lucius snapped, sounding more than a little miffed at being cut off by Hermione. "Now, we just have to wait for the spell to root itself within Miss Granger and both Granger and Weasley will suffer the consequences. So really Mr. Potter, you are the only one we need to deal with." Harry looked up, his face white behind his dark glasses.

"You won't get away with this," Harry warned, "McGonagall will have sent out people to search for us the second she realized we were all gone." Lucius laughed.

"Don't be daft, even if she _did _send out people in search of you three, pray tell how exactly she will manage to find you? Do you think we marked our trail? I hate to burst your bubble, but we forgot to place the flashing arrow above the mansion." Lucius sneered snidely, stepping back to join the league of deatheaters.

"McGonagall has ways of finding us—and the Aurors too! They know we wouldn't just disappear!" Harry returned passionately. Lucius sighed heavily.

"By the time any of them even realize you are here, you will be dead."

"You seem to have forgotten that you haven't succeeded in that venture _yet_," Harry snapped back, and Hermione could see his hands clenching in rage. She wondered briefly _how _Harry intended on fighting back this time. Instinctively, Hermione reached into her tattered robes, feeling around for her own wand. She assumed that Harry's wand had been stripped from him upon arrival, as she had heard Lucius instruct Wormtail to do to Ron and herself. Wormtail however had been so preoccupied in taunting the new arrivals that he had completely forgotten to remove their wands at all. With Harry though, Hermione was positive that Voldemort himself had taken the wand away, to ensure that the plan continued smoothly. _If he's fired upon, he has no way to protect himself_, Hermione thought nervously. _I guess Ron and I will have to block for him until he gets a means of protection_, Hermione supposed fretfully.

"Enough of all this frippery!" Voldemort demanded harshly, annoyed by the heated exchange between Potter and his most faithful henchman. "I got you this time and I won't let you slip between my fingers!" He cried, standing up so quickly that his chair fell out behind him. In a flash, his hand shot out to get the wand on his desk and Hermione barely had enough time to shout a deflecting spell before Voldemort's "_Cruciatus_!" rang out across the room. Voldemort looked slightly stunned by Hermione's deflection but recovered quickly, turning furiously to one of the cloaked figures.

"Pettigrew!" He fumed accusingly as the form fell helplessly at his feet.

"I'm so sorry master—I'm so sorry! I meant to take away their wands—I _did_, but I got distracted—,"

"Silence you worthless imbecile! I'll deal with you later!" Voldemort sneered so viciously that it left no doubt in anyone's mind that he would follow through on that threat. He turned back to the trio who were now frantically conferring amongst themselves over how to deal with the situation.

"Ron—you and I should both attack him at the same time—Harry you should stay back until you have some means of protection!" Hermione said quickly but Ron shook his head.

"If we attack him, he'll have his deatheaters firing off spells so fast that we'll be dead before we even know what's happening. Then Harry will be left completely alone." Harry leaned in close to his friends.

"The deatheaters won't fire on us unless they had Voldemort's permission, and he's much too prideful for that. He'll want to kill us on his own," Harry assured them as another spell was fired at the trio. Ron shot off the deflection for this one, catching it inches above Hermione's back.

"Whatever we do, we need to figure it out quickly," Ron said and Hermione and Harry shook their heads in agreement.

"Well I had intended on letting the love spell have its way with you two, but clearly you wish to die much sooner," Voldemort said, walking around the desk. He kept his distance from the trio, but his presence was suffocating nevertheless. They quickly broke apart, eyeing their captor suspiciously. "Grab them!" He ordered suddenly and before the trio could assess the situation, the deatheaters had sprung into action, grasping each tightly. Hermione kicked violently in an attempt to free herself, staring hatefully at Voldemort.

"Let us go!" She demanded lamely as her wand was stripped from her. _What do I expect him to do, just let us go because I told him to? How lame is that? _Hermione thought angrily. She saw that Ron too had lost his to his subjugator and felt a sinking in her stomach as she realized that all three of them were unarmed. Voldemort smirked maniacally, turning to Lucius.

"Lucius, it seems we are faced with the added bonus of having _three _to kill tonight rather than the _one _in which we had anticipated. Since I only care that the Potter boy expires at my hands, I think that this would be the perfect opportunity for your son to prove his loyalty." Hermione's mouth dropped open suddenly as one of the cloaked figures stepped forward, letting the hood fall from his head. Despite the poor lighting there was no denying that the boy who stood in front of her was Draco.

Draco stared at his classmates hesitantly. It wasn't as if he felt any sort of _compassion _or _friendliness _towards them. On the contrary, Draco fully despised every one of them. Sill, he couldn't quite bring himself to kill Weasley and Granger in cold blood. _This is what you've been trained for, _he reminded himself, taking another step towards them. _This is what you've worked for. You are finally going to be accepted, and you can finally get rid of that pesky weasel and the know-it-all. _Draco bit his lip diffidently, willing himself to act and soon. He clutched the dagger that his father had pressed into his palm a moment earlier, gathering his courage. He stepped towards Hermione, deciding to kill her first. It hadn't been something that he had really thought out or anything, it was more instinctual that he stepped towards her, his mother's insistent reminder echoing through his head, _ladies first_. Hermione's eyes widened in the moonlight, the fear evident. Draco wished that he could stop. _This right here is what I really want, _he thought to himself, _I only ever wanted power over them—the ability to scare them, as I have now. I never wanted to kill them. _Still, Draco knew he had no choice, as the other deatheaters were watching him expectantly, waiting for him to make a move. He swallowed hard, reaching out to catch Hermione's hair in his fist. He knew the procedure—one thrust straight through the heart. She was supposed to be watching him the entire time, focused on her killer—hence the hair-grabbing. Only when Draco caught her by her wild mane he paused a moment too long. Before he could comprehend what was happening, Hermione's leg shot out, clipping Draco in the knees and sending him sprawling. He felt her grab the knife from him, catching hold of him by his neck.

"Let Ron and Harry go or Draco dies," Hermione warned, although her threats fell on deaf ears. The other deatheaters seemed to chuckle indifferently at her intimidation.

"Go ahead and kill him—he probably would have met the same fate anyway," Voldemort said with a shrug, his eyes trained on Harry. Realizing that her warning was useless, Hermione pushed Draco away and lunged suddenly for Ron's captor, catching him right about where she supposed his face would be, although with the cloak on it was nearly impossible. The chilling screech of agony that came from the captor proved that her guesses were correct however, affording Ron a small window in which he could not only escape, but recover his stolen wand as well. Hermione drew the knife from the deatheater, cringing slightly at the ruby red blood that decorated the blade.

"_Stupefy_!" Ron cried suddenly, hurling the spell straight at Voldemort, who managed to avoid it in the knick of time. The other deatheaters raised their wands to retaliate in the name of their lord, but Voldemort held up his hand to stop them.

"No!" He bellowed, "You might hit Potter—the first person to fire against them will suffer instant death!"

"_Expelliarmus_!" Hermione and Ron cried in unison, sending the spell towards Voldemort. He avoided it once more, sending a pile of books towards them that they had not realized was there until they were hurtling through the air.

"_Reducto_!" Hermione yelled, just in time. The books turned sharply away from Ron and Hermione, landing in a heap on the floor. "Ron—we have to get him—_now_!" Hermione said urgently, as both Ron and herself sent a series of spells and curses flying towards Voldemort. He was hit by a few but managed to avoid the more extreme ones, ducking protectively against one of the stone walls.

"My Lord, you have to let us intervene—at least with Weasley and Granger!" Lucius tried to appeal to Voldemort, who shook his head petulantly.

"No—_I _can handle them! _Stay where you are_!" He hissed, only to be hit unsuspectingly by Hermione's rushed, "_Expelliarmus_". Voldemort blinked, stunned as his wand shot from his hand to Hermione who grabbed it immediately and passed it over to Harry who had managed to struggle free from his captor. Harry took it, blinking for a minute before realizing that it was the same as his. _I knew that had to come in handy some day_, Harry thought to himself, recalling how surprised he had been his first year when the trip to Ollivander's had proved that he was connected to the dark lord in more ways than one. The trio, newly armed, faced their opponents with a renewed air of superiority. They knew that even without his wand Voldemort was undeniably powerful, but when faced with the three of them their chances were much better. Not to mention the fact that none of the deatheaters dared to cast anything against them, frozen with the fear of Voldemort's wrath.

"_Morsmordre_!" Ron cried suddenly, brandishing his own wand towards the roof. An eerie green light shot out of the end, and Hermione and Harry stared in awe at Ron. Even Voldemort and the deatheaters seemed to be in shock. They were all looking back and forth at eachother as if waiting for an order that they all know would never come. Hermione however was the only one to voice her incredulousness.

"Do you realize what you just did?" She demanded, shocked by the seeming rashness of his actions. _Is he a fake too? Is the real Ron locked away somewhere? _She wondered frantically but Ron merely shrugged.

"Well it isn't quite a flashing arrow," he began with a smile, "but I think that McGonagall and the Aurors will get the hint."


	15. The Year's End

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Chapter Fifteen

"Can you believe we're almost done with all of this?"

Ron and Harry looked up from the common room couch and smiled curiously at Hermione. She had just walked into the common room and had plopped down heavily at the seat next to them. Ron glanced over to her and smiled. She was undeniably beautiful. Her brown hair had been pulled back into a loose braid and Ron had never seen her look so content. Upon their return from the mansion (the Dark Mark had worked exactly how Ron had anticipated—not ten minutes after Ron had conjured it above the castle, McGonagall and a horde of Aurors had burst into the room) all three of them had gone to the infirmary and Madam Pompfrey had been quick to heal the surprisingly few wounds that they had acquired. The real healing however had come when the trio had returned to the common room—and had been attacked by Lavender and Parvati who had staged a full on makeover for the trio. If there had been any dirt or twigs left in Hermione's hair by the end of the attack, Ron would have been surprised. He would have been surprised if _anything _had been left in her hair at all. It wasn't just physical healing that the trio went though upon their return though. As was the norm, they had not been in the common room ten minutes and had managed to tell the story dozens of times to the awestruck Gryffindors. They managed to leave out the details of the love potion, not to mention the spontaneous embraces and kisses between Ron and Hermione, but the story still had a certain shock-effect to it.

"What do you mean we're almost done?" Harry asked, leaning back into the chair. Despite his penchant for adventure, he fully enjoyed the periods of relaxation that fell in between the action. Hermione shrugged, drawing her knees to her chest.

"You know—we'll _graduate _in a few weeks, and then what? We'll go out, have our jobs; we won't have school to keep us close. I mean, I've been reading up on it and statistics show that people who were close all through school drifted apart once they had graduated." Ron laughed.

"Statistics also say that nearly everyone who Voldemort comes into contact with gets killed—when have we ever been ones to follow statistics?" He asked, draping his arm casually around Hermione's shoulder. She rested her head on his shoulder and shrugged. Despite the fact that they had been having these close type of moments (not to mention even _closer _moments) in the past few weeks, it never failed to make both Hermione and Ron's hearts flip with satisfaction.

"Believe me Hermione—there's no way you'll be able to get rid of the two of us." Harry said with a laugh and despite her worries, Hermione had to smile. That probably _wasn't _very likely. _At the rate we're going we'll still be searching for horocruxes and battling Voldemort until we're old a decrepit, _Hermione thought to herself. She suppressed a laugh at the vision of the three of them fighting Voldemort, walkers and canes in tow.

"I suppose you're right," Hermione admitted, her earlier feelings of anxiety settling down in her chest. Ron nodded in agreement.

"Plus, I think mum would die if you two didn't continue to spend all your free time at the Burrow." He piped in with a laugh, his hand gently massaging Hermione's shoulder. She felt so good snuggled into him; the warmth of her body combining with his own. He still couldn't get over the fact that they were together now and that he could hold her or hug her whenever he wanted. It was what he had been after for _years _and finally—_finally_—it had come true.

Ron remembered how nervous he had been when McGonagall took them back to Hogwarts. It wasn't so much the fact that he knew they were going to be in loads of trouble (they weren't) or the fact that he knew McGonagall would probably expel them before they could graduate (she didn't), but more the fear that once they were in the infirmary, the love potion would no doubt be lifted and Hermione would go back to her old self again. Now that they had heard the details of the potion Ron was sure that they would be able to cure it or at least suppress it somehow. He had fretted all night, tossing and turning on the uncomfortable cot until Hermione had appeared suddenly at his bedside.

"Ron are you awake?" She had asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She had been keenly aware that Harry was one bed away and clearly she had no intention of waking him. Ron had nodded and sat up slightly, his face bathed in the moonlight. She had bit her lip then, as if thinking something over in her head. "I wanted to talk to you about what happened tonight in the tower."

"What about it?" Ron had asked then, careful to monitor his tone so that she wouldn't be able to recognize the eagerness in it.

"Well, you know what Lucius and I said about how the love potion left you because it realized that you had feelings for me? How it was looking for another host and ended up choosing me?" Ron nodded but Hermione hadn't seemed to notice. She continued on. "Well, I didn't realize it then because we were all worried about dying and stuff, but I think that the spell left me too, looking for another suitable host." At this Ron hadn't been able to mask his surprise. He had nearly jumped straight off of the cot, but had managed to contain himself in the knick of time.

"What do you mean? Why weren't you a suitable host?" Ron had pressed dumbly, trying to appear innocent about what Hermione was saying. Inwardly he was brimming with questions. _Does she love me? Is this real? How can I tell whether or not this is really her or the spell? Is the spell really gone? _He had wondered excitedly, waiting for Hermione's answer. She was silent for a long time, so quiet that Ron wondered if she had fallen asleep right there at the side of his bed. Finally though, she had spoken, her voice solemn in the darkness.

"Because my feelings for you were genuine—just like your feelings were for me." Although it had been what Ron had anticipated her saying he was still surprised by the declaration. He had smiled nervously, hoping she meant what he wanted her to mean.

"So—the spell is gone? Everything is," Ron had paused, choking slightly over the last word, "real?"

"Yes." It had been exactly what Ron wanted to hear. He had reached out then, catching Hermione's chin in the darkness, and even though they had been having impromptu kisses for quite some time, that had been the first time that it felt completely valid.

"Ron—what do you think?" Hermione's prodding tones brought Ron back from his reveries. He stared down at her with a contented grin.

"About what?" He asked, blushing slightly when Harry and Hermione laughed.

"About what we've been talking about for the past ten minutes!" Hermione crowed brightly, craning her neck to look up at Ron. He smiled down at her and shrugged innocently. Hermione raised an eyebrow. "What do you think about us—_all _of us—staying at the Burrow for a while? At least until Harry's house is finished that is. I have a feeling your mum will be more than happy to let us." Ron nodded enthusiastically. Not only would Hermione be staying with him the _entire summer_ but then when they all moved into Godric's Hollow as well.

"I think mum would be insulted otherwise," Ron assured them. Harry smiled and stared teasingly at the couple to his right.

"Except I doubt that she'll let us bunk _too _close anymore," he laughed and even in the firelight the redness that rose in Ron and Hermione's cheeks was prominent.

"Yeah—I wouldn't be surprised if you end up in a bunk right next to mum and dad," Ron admitted and Hermione's face flamed.

"Yeah, me _and _Ginny," Hermione cast a quick glance at Harry's startled face and rushed to cover her error, "Oh honestly, it's not like Ron and I can't contain ourselves," she said, the embarrassment in her tone blatant. Ron shrugged.

"Well, you _did _have a certain tendency to _throw _yourself at me on that little adventure of ours," he joked, giving Hermione's shoulder a loving squeeze. She cocked an eyebrow at him and smiled.

"I never saw you fighting me _off_," she added, sitting up and fixing him with an accusatory stare. Ron merely shrugged. Harry laughed along with his friends.

"Like I said before—I wouldn't be surprised if you and Ginny were under constant supervision." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Oh Gods, it won't be _that _bad I'm sure," she said, turning her gaze back to the fire. She remembered all of the times that they had strategized and planned different adventures in this dorm. She knew that like everything else in Hogwarts, it would be hard to leave it.

"Don't worry Hermione—once we move in with Harry we'll have _plenty _of time to make up what we missed out on at the Burrow." Hermione felt her face flame again as she reached out, playfully smacking at Ron's arm. He laughed.

"If you two continue to be so _sappy _then I might take back my offer to have you live with me at all," Harry warned jokingly. He glanced at the clock. "We better get down to the Great Hall or else we're going to miss dinner completely." He said. They had to be the only Gryffindors left in the entire dormitory. Everyone else had gone down long ago. Hermione and Ron stood reluctantly, struggling to snap out of the tranquil state that the fire had lulled them into. Harry followed suit, stretching out his legs carefully before meeting up with Ron and Hermione. He couldn't help looking at them with a smile; they had both waited so long for this that it was only fair that they should have ended up together. He only hoped that Ron would be just as happy for him and Ginny. _Ifwe ever manage to tell him that is_, Harry thought to himself with a guilty smile. But the time for that would come later. Right now, he just wanted to enjoy the moment with his two best friends. _Not to mention that I fancy graduating with all of my limbs, _Harry thought with a nervous laugh. Heglanced around the common room one last time and hurried out to catch up withHermione and Ron.Together, the three of them walked down to their last meal at Hogwarts. Despite everything that they had been through the past seven years and all the things that they had done, nothing had changed. Some things never do.

**END**

* * *

Dedications: 

First and foremost I would like to dedicate this story to my best friend Terra who had the brilliant idea for it in the first place. I know that you didn't want this to be a dictatorship where you told me what to write and I'm so thankful that you let me totally do my own thing, even though I totally ended up warping your idea in the process. I hope you liked how it turned out anyway. Secondly, I would like to dedicate this to all of the reviewers (I'm not going to name everyone, but you know who you are) who really helped me with this by adding comments and ideas and places that I needed to clarify. Without all of you I would not have had ANY motivation and there would be no way that I would have finished this. Lastly, I would like to dedicate this to my friendsfor dealing with all ofmy absentmindedness and me bouncing all my ideas and stuff off of you guys even when you had no clue what I was talking about. Sometimes the best thing to do is just smile and nod. Thank you all!


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